Gossip Girl 1. Preface: The End of Something

**Preface: The End of Something**

The devil often came in rare forms.

And tonight, she was dressed in violet. Chuck Bass watched her, whiskey burning down his throat as she made her way through the thick crowd, people parting like the Red Sea to a Moses dressed in Balenciaga. Blair Waldorf was society's queen, her diamond headband a refined crown pulling through brown silky curls. It was the brink of summer, and her skin was already golden, dewy pink hiding behind tanned cheeks. And the dress…Chuck swallowed, black eyes raking over her form. It was strapless, clutching her thin frame, tight around her bust, grazing the floor behind her with every step she took.

"She's beautiful, isn't she?"

Chuck's eyebrows slanted, his lips curling into a mean snarl as he cast a glance at his brother, the grinning blonde standing beside him, hands tucked into the pockets of his suit. Carter Bass slung back, sipping a gin and tonic, his eyes trained on the same target, a rubber dart next to the sleek arrow that was Chuck Bass.

"I know her…I think," chimed in the youngest of the three. Nathaniel Bass was kicked back beside them, dressed in a rumpled tux, his tie askew, his bangs sideswept in a way that the women adored.

Carter nodded. "Father Dearest did business with her mother," he said, laughter at the back of his throat. "I think we summered with her years ago." As the eldest, he was a cross between the two extremes, light and dark, smarmy and carefree, hollow with darkness.

Chuck's eyes returned to the brunette, only to find a blur of purple escaping the crowd, the woman slipping through heavy wooden doors at the far end of the room. Chuck followed, sneaking away from his brothers, sniffing the trail of Chanel No. 5 and strawberry shampoo as he slipped in behind her. The room was empty, aside from the beautiful woman perched on an abandoned barstool. The Sheperds had cast the room aside, neglecting the bar area for their glamorous nuptials.

"You're following me," Blair said suddenly, a sly smile in her voice. She turned to look at him, her chin tilting up. Chuck grinned, shutting the door behind him.

"I am."

"I know who you are," Blair sighed. "You're – "

"Chuck Bass_._"

Blair scoffed, eyes rolling indignantly. "It's rude to interrupt."

"It's rude to taunt a man with that dress," Chuck said, taking a step closer. Blair didn't flinch, didn't even blink as he reached out to touch the satin wrapped around the curve of her hip. "You look beautiful."

"You must be mistaking me for my best friend," Blair tried, her posture faltering. "Serena is the bombshell." She paused, cocking her head to the side. "Serena is the tease." Chuck narrowed his eyes, releasing her.

"Was she in the room? I didn't notice."

"I'm sure."

Chuck smiled, taking a seat beside her. "Your name is…"

"Audrey."

"Your real name."

"Scarlet."

Chuck shook his head, frowning at her lie. "Then I suppose I'm Rhett."

Blair laughed, seeming much older than he knew she was as her head fell back, the chuckle filling the room. "I'd think you were charming if I didn't know better." Blair's face dropped as she went on. "But this is what you do, isn't it? You read the script, you lure me in, you bed me, and you're gone by the morning. It's what you Basses are famous for, isn't it? Each in your own ways."

Chuck blinked. "You know my brothers."

"I know of your brothers," Blair corrected. She hopped down from the barstool, her dress hitching up for a brief moment to reveal a sliver of bronzed limbs. "Carter, the global vagabond who roughs it around the _world_." She rolled her eyes. "Because that's so original." Chuck smirked as she continued with a wave of her hand. "And the young one - Nathaniel, is it? He's my age. He's a bit dim but absolutely _dashing_." She paused for a moment, and he waited. "And then there's you."

"And then there's me," Chuck echoed, an edge of curiosity in his voice.

"Chuck Bass," Blair drawled, eyeing him with interest. "The tortured womanizer, the dark soul, the black sheep of the family. You don't share their mother, which explains the hair and those eyes." He swallowed as she examined him. "They're golden. And you're dangerous."

"You think you know me," Chuck said, backing away from her. "You don't."

"Maybe not," Blair shrugged, tossing her hair over her shoulder before brushing past him. Chuck watched as she went, his eyes trailing down to the dip of her dress, scooping low down her back. She left him unhinged. He didn't like it.

"Wait," Chuck called, a glint sparking in his eyes. "Why did you come in here?"

Blair thought for a moment. "I wanted a drink."

Chuck narrowed his eyes, detesting her for taunting him. "The bar is empty."

But Blair only smiled, her eyes going stony as she pushed through the door, black lacquered nails tapping against the hardwood. "Goodnight, Chuck."

And then she was gone, pulled into the crowd like a ghost. Chuck rejoined his brothers, ignoring their suspicious glares as Blair found her shawl and wrapped it around her shoulders. She stopped before she stepped into the lobby, linking her arm though a leggy blonde's. And as if she could feel their eyes on her, she turned, casting them all a small smile. A dimple dug into her cheek, her eyes so unfocused that they could have been trained on any one of them.

The devil often came in rare forms.

And tonight, she was dressed in violet.

:::

But, you see, that was only the beginning. By summer's end, Blair Waldorf's knees would sink into rocky sand, her hair unraveling from her carefully-crafted bun, her cheeks stained with tears that begged for the company of more. She'd hold three playing cards in her shaking hands, tattered and worn from the toils of three months spent in the Hamptons. The first was the jack of diamonds, a beautiful sparkling thing, glittering on the stack, but empty beyond the shine. And the ace of spades, the number that trumped the rest, the wild card with two faces. And the last was the worst weathered, the one she'd come to memorize. It was the king of hearts, the king of _hers_. The dark ounce of royalty that betrayed its own name.

It was her move to make, but not her game to play.

By summer's end, friendships would be shattered, hearts would be broken, tragedy would commence.

And only one card would survive the draw.

* * *

**Author's Note: **I beg of you not to hate me for starting a new fic. I'm terrible, I know. But I actually had a daydream about this (please excuse my obsession) during my midterm today, and I had to just flesh it out and get it out there. Anyway, my chapters are usually longer, but this is more of a preface. Or a preview, if you will. As always, leave your rants or raves for me. I'd love to know what you think, and if I should bother continuing. In other news, my spring break has finally arrived, so expect updates on _Wires _and _On Taming the Stars _this weekend and the week following. Hooray!

xoxo, N


	2. Sweet Disposition

**Chapter 1. Sweet Disposition**

The most dangerous thing about young love is that it's hardly ever taken seriously. It is a cacophony of first times, nervous glances whispering to flushed cheeks, fumbles and trips before the full leap. It is a sweep of emotion that carries you through passion so red that it hides beneath your skin for the rest of your life, reminding every other shade that it was the first. And the end of it…hearts fall like vases, tears flood the world into an apocalypse so torturous that the scar remains long after you convince yourself that you've lost his number, that you've grown and gone from the child you were, that you know nothing of the past as you walk down the aisle to Park Avenue penthouses and cold diamonds on fragile fingers.

Blair pondered this as Dorota tied her hair up into a chignon at the back of her head. She was thirteen years old, in a slim black bathing suit that allowed for the "Audrey moment" she'd always dreamt of. Ruffles brushed the tops of her thighs, her cheeks flushed a dewy pink, and her eyes were bright against he Long Island sun. The air was salty, the breeze kissed her skin, and the sun beat down upon the beach with promise. Behind her, the 1770 House stood in all of its classic, regal bearing. The mansion had been co-owned by her mother and the notorious Bart Bass for as long as she could remember, a product of business tangling with bigger business in a race for recognition. Eleanor wanted the power, Bart wanted the appeal, and the two names took Manhattan by storm. But here, in East Hampton, the Atlantic stood silent, and the waves belonged to Blair.

As Dorota smoothed coconut-scented sunscreen over her golden shoulders, Blair silently imagined being swept up in a summer romance on this very beach by boys who'd one day become the Marlon Brandos and Humphrey Bogarts of the world. Despite her age, she was a bashful romantic due to many a night spent curled up under a massive duvet on Sunday nights with her mother's collection of classics, rather than her actual mother. Blair practically swooned as she thought of her favorite scene in _Roman Holiday_ – Princess Ann gliding across the streets of Rome on the handlebars of Joe's scooter. Blair bit her lip, longing for the same break from school, tutors, singing lessons, and –

"Heads up!" Blair squealed as a football dove into the dip of sand beside her, just missing one of her tan legs. She frowned as bits of wet sand splattered across her cheek, staining the strap of her halter-top. She parted her lips, ready to issue a verbal slap down on whoever had deigned to break into her reverie. But when she whipped around, the words stopped in her throat, her eyes widening in complete shock. A young boy with golden hair and bright blue eyes was running towards her, his curls sticking to the nape of his neck, his grin kind and open. He was shirtless, wearing only a pair of blue swim short that hung around his hips. Blair coughed as the handsome boy crouched down beside her, his grin dropping to an apologetic smile.

"I'm sorry," the boy said, balancing on one knee. "Did I hit you?" Blair shut her lips, offering a slow shake of her head. Beside her, Dorota was watching the exchange, concern ridden all over her cheeky features. Blair jerked her head to the side, waving her away with narrowed eyes until the maid sighed and collected Blair's things to return to the house.

"No…" Blair said, tucking a stray curl behind her ear. "No, I'm fine."

"I'm Nate," the boy grinned, grabbing the football in the crook in one arm. "You're Blair, right?" _Oh_. Blair blinked as he grabbed one of her tiny hands in his, giving it a slow shake. She'd been dreading meeting Bart's sons, imagining miniature versions of their cold-eyed, stiff senior. But Nate was easily the most beautiful boy she'd ever seen. Blair lifted her chin, rolling her shoulders back to respond when they were interrupted by a deeper voice from the south patio of the house, sandals slapping against the hardwood.

"Come on, kid. It's a game, not a tea party," called the older boy from up the beach. Blair startled, her arm brushing Nate's as they both glanced up. He was an older version of the boy beside her, darkened hair cropped atop his head, full red lips above a set jaw. Blair gulped, glancing between the two brothers. As soon as the elder set his eyes on her, his lips curled into a knowing grin. "Well…hello, beautiful."

"It's Blair," she corrected, crossing her arms over her chest. The boy, who must have been the sixteen year old Bass, raked his eyes over her petite form before smiling up at her again.

"I don't think I've had the pleasure of introducing myself yet," he said, stealing the football away from an annoyed Nate. "I see that my brother beat me to it." He leaned down, his eyes glimmering. "Carter Bass." Blair cocked her head to the side, clearly unimpressed by his smarm.

"_And_?"

Carter laughed out loud, amused by her blatant challenge. Nate got up and shoved his brother to the side as he went. But Carter remained where he was, his eyes trained straight on Blair as she smirked at him. "And you look a little dry, _Blair_."

Blair frowned at his comment, glancing down at herself. "What – " And then she was being hoisted into the air, her knees hooked over one of Carter's arms, his hand on the flat of her stomach. Blair screamed, slapping at his bare chest as he chuckled, carrying her closer and closer to the ocean in front of them. Her legs flailed, her waist writhed, but it was to no avail.

"Come on, man," Nate called out, racing after them. Blair shot Carter a murderous stare as he swung her over the water once, twice, and then again. Even as she protested, a flush washed over her skin at every inch of him that was touching her.

"Don't you dare," Blair hissed, clinging onto his arm when he threatened to drop her.

"Now you're holding on?" Carter mused, dropping his lips low to her ear. "You'll have to make up your mind. Either you stay…" His eyes were devilish as he pitched her up in his arms. "Or you let go." Blair screamed as she hit the water, her bottom plopping down onto the wet sand under the surface. Her unitard soaked to her skin, her carefully crafted hair-do falling to her face. She gasped for breath as she pushed to the surface, watching as Carter returned to his football game with Nate without a care in the world. God, what a _jerk_. Is that what she was to him – some little kid he could just toss around? She was _Blair Waldorf_.

Blair fumed as she stormed back up the beach, dripping water behind her. She waited until Carter jumped for a pass to stick her leg out behind him, hitting his shin with her ankle. She smirked as he went headfirst into the sand, the football flying into the water behind them.

"_Fuck_," Carter spat, bits of sand flying from his mouth. Blair simply shrugged, smiling at Nate before she continued up the beach, squeezing water from her hair. Nate waved back at her, a loopy grin on his face as she pushed though the glass door and into the air-conditioned bar behind the wet room. She shivered, wrapping her arms around herself as she exhaled.

"He's just a stupid boy," Blair whispered to herself, slumping against the wall. "He will _not _ruin your summer." It was then that she heard footsteps coming from the wet room, and she jumped in surprise. Another boy, one with a sharp jaw and dark features turned the corner with a cigarette in his hand. He was surely older than Nate, but younger than Carter. Blair wrinkled her nose, staring down at the smoke, then up at his messy hair and hazel eyes. He couldn't be one of the brothers…could he? The others were all-American, straight from the pages of an Abercrombie catalogue. But as he took her in, Blair felt knots in her stomach. He wasn't beach pranks and football games, he was twisted and dark – a pot of unforgotten regrets and careless nights.

"Get wet?" He smirked at her, eyeing the dripping black suit that hung around her body. Blair wrapped her arms tighter around her chest.

"It wasn't by _choice_," Blair seethed. "That Carter Bass seems to think that he can do whatever he pleases…" The boy simply smirked, knowing his brother all too well. Blair watched as he ducked out of sight, poking his head into the wet room. He surfaced with a plush blue beach towel in his hands, the cigarette unlit between his lips. She gratefully reached out for it, but he held it just out of her reach, dangling it in the air.

Ugh. He was _definitely _related to Carter.

"Give it," Blair sighed, reaching up on her tiptoes.

"Say please," the boy taunted.

"_No_."'

And then he caught her waist with one hand, steadying her before she could fall. Blair took a breath as he dropped the towel around her shoulders, more gently than she expected of him. He smelled like a man – Clive Christian No. 1 and apples soaked in ashes – but he laughed like a broken boy.

"Thanks," Blair murmured as the boy held the towel around her, giving a subtle rub to her shoulders to dry her off. There was a flush on her skin, and she hoped it would pass for sunburn. The boy's lips curled, and he looked about ready to reply to her when –

"Chuck?" Platinum blonde hair and an accent that sounded fluent in Russian and _skank_ broke into their conversation. Blair frowned up at the older girl, at the strappy little bikini stretched over bulbous curves. Chuck only looked slightly annoyed when he released Blair and looked back at the other girl.

"A minute," Chuck snapped, jerking his head to the side. The blonde pouted, making sure to flaunt her cleavage as she turned to go. Blair rolled her eyes, jerking the edge of towel from Chuck's fingertips.

"Wouldn't want to keep you from your entertainment."

Chuck smirked. "You alright? You're looking a bit…green." Blair frowned, reaching up to touch her cheeks. What was he _talking _about? She'd tanned at thirty minute intervals, applied just the right mix of foundation and bronzer, and she wasn't _feeling _sick, so what… "With jealousy," Chuck finished, reaching out to tip her chin. Blair went to slap him away, but he disappeared just before she could even lift a hand. A smirk, a chuckle, a slamming door – and then he was gone, a muffled, girlish squeal emanating from the other side of the wall.

And that was the last time Blair would speak to any one of the Bass brothers in six years.

Just as out of season Coach bags gathered dust in closet corners, the 1770 House lost the gleam of its very first summer. Blair found a best friend in a leggy blonde – Serena van der Woodsen – who traipsed around Caribbean resorts and Parisian boutiques with her. Carter took it upon himself to become a man of the world – exchanging his neckties for khakis – purely for the title of valor. Nate was swept under the wing of his mother's father, as the Vanderbilts were all too eager to reclaim the young Bass. He shacked up in their Connecticut mansion with an endless number of squash games and football matches to keep him entertained. And Chuck…Of course, he fled to the darkest corners of the world – coke dens in Asia, dim pubs in Bristol. Whether he was escaping or simply lost, nobody knew.

:::

It was on the summer before Blair would turn nineteen that she was summoned back to The Hamptons for an obligatory schmooze-fest with the Basses, urged on with her mother's sharp fingernails dug into her lifted shoulders.

"Anne and Bart have always been huge investors in Waldorf Designs," Eleanor had said over tea on a weekend Blair had returned from Yale. "And I intend to keep these familial bonds _strong_, lest they forget where their loyalties lie."

Blair rolled her eyes, biting into a scone. "And you require my presence because…?"

"What a better way to secure the Bass business than to bond with its heirs?" Eleanor asked coyly, smoothing a spread of butter onto a roll. "The Bass-Waldorf legacy belongs to _all _of you. We'll just set that in stone."

"The Bass brothers are all insufferable," Blair sighed. "And I already have plans for the summer with – "

"Serena and her family have also been invited to join us," Eleanor cut in, her eyes trained on the Blackberry in her other hand. "I'm not asking you, Blair. I'm telling you. I'll expect you present on the fifteenth until you return to Yale. One summer won't kill you."

_Oh, if only she knew._

:::

"Come on, B," Serena giggled, her blonde hair falling in pretty tangles around her face as the two girls sat poolside beside the 1770 House. "Spill it." Blair rolled her eyes, sipping the Pina Colada in her hands with leisure. Serena was everything Blair would never want to be – a bright floral swimsuit and wild blue eyes a stark comparison to her dainty green two piece and reserved brown ones.

"There's nothing to spill," Blair smirked. "Yale boys are exactly that. _Boys_. I'll do my soul-searching after I lay claim to the Yale throne." Blair shot Serena a satisfied little grin as she thought of this. Sure, there had been more than a few golden boys who'd fallen at her feet since she'd stepped foot on Yale's campus, but her love life fit into year two of her five-year plan. She'd find a prince once _she _was wearing the crown.

"Blair Waldorf, Queen of Yale," Serena stated with faux solemnity. "Should I bow, or…?" The blonde giggled as a tiny pink drink parasol hit her face, due to Blair's perfect aim.

"Don't mock my methods, S," Blair said, letting her hair loose from its ponytail. "At least I'm not frolicking in fresh hash and hemp skirts at Brown."

"Brown is _not _like that!" Serena protested. "I'm having fun."

"You and I have completely different definitions of fun," Blair retorted. "Ever since you brought home a mole person, it's hard not to think that the marijuana fumes are seriously clouding your judgment."

"His name is _Dan_," Serena corrected. "And he's really nice. He's not like the other guys we grew up around."

"The guys we grew up around have this thing called class with a side of taste," Blair sighed. "Honestly, S, Lily is going to have a field day when she sees that the 1770 House has become a shelter for the ungroomed and poorly dressed."

"Please be nice," Serena pleaded, her blue eyes widening. "His sister is coming along, and I want to make a good first impression."

"Try dreadlocks and ironic house music," Blair smirked. Serena cast her a scolding look, and Blair softened, letting out a regretful sigh. "Fine. I'll allow their little fifteen minutes of glitz and glamour. But I can promise nothing more then civility. This summer, I just want to relax, unwind, and steer clear of – "

"Heads up!" Blair felt a dreadful wave of nostalgia as a splash of pool water drowned out her sentence, drenching her and Serena. She watched as two tanned men jumped into the pool in front of her. She seethed and Serena giggled, unraveling the sarong tied around her hips. Nate and Carter shoved at each other, dunking heads under the pool as they laughed.

"_What _is your problem?" Blair shouted, slipping her Havanas on to lean over the edge of the pool. She shivered as a cool breeze swept over the pool.

"Hey, Blair!" Nate called, clearly seeing nothing wrong with his dastardly offense. He was older now, a Yale sophomore like she was. She'd seen him around, read his name in the sports announcements of the Yale Daily. But now she could see that his chest had filled out, his hair was styled and slicked away from his face. Blair licked her lips, her stance faltering.

"Now why does this feel so familiar?" Carter laughed, surfacing right in front of Blair, wading in the deep end. The oldest Bass grinned up at her, resting his elbows on the pool's edge.

"Apologize," Blair demanded.

"I'm _sorry_," Carter said, raising one hand to his chest. "And allow me to apologize in advance for this – " Wet fingers wrapped around her ankle, throwing her off balance as Carter tugged her forward. Blair screamed and Serena clapped a hand over her mouth as Carter grabbed hold of her thigh and pulled her into the water.

"I _hate _you," Blair spat, shoving Carter's chest.

"It's summer," Carter smirked, leaning down to whisper in her ear. "Live a little."

"You won't be living for very long if you pull this again," Blair hissed. She swam to the opposite end of the pool, where Nate shot her a sympathetic smile. She shook her head at him, adjusting the tie at her back. "_You _used to be on my side." Nate laughed at this, hoisting her out of the pool and following close behind. He grabbed a towel and handed it to her, pushing wet hair from her face.

"I'm sorry, sweetheart," Nate amended. He leaned down to press a kiss to her cheek. "It's really good to see you. We should catch up this summer…talk about Yale?" Blair lost her breath as he shot her a wide grin. "Without my brothers around."

"I heard that," Carter called out, his tone playful. But still, his smile dropped as he glanced between the two of them, his eyes narrowing. Blair ignored him, too busy getting lost in Nate's bright blue eyes. Maybe she _would _start her quest for love early. It wouldn't hurt her status as queen to return to campus on the arm of a boy like Nate.

"I meant you to," Nate called back, shaking out the water from his hair. Over Blair's shoulder, Carter lifted his middle finger in the air, turning to introduce himself to Serena, who was already diving into the pool.

"So, I'll see you tonight?" Nate smiled back at Blair. "The Dinner of Death starts at eight. We can watch your mom and my dad compete over who has the bigger head." Blair rolled her eyes in agreement, giving him a slight nod.

"That actually sounds…nice," Blair grinned. Nate seemed pleased by her admission and gave her shoulder a gentle squeeze before jogging back over to the pool. Blair tugged her lip between her teeth as she sauntered back into the house, delighted to feel Nate's eyes on her back as she retreated. When she turned, Carter was staring too, raising his hands in exaggerated disappointment.

"Come swim with us, B," Serena yelped, clearly already tipsy from their fruity cocktails. Blair rolled her eyes as Carter took a moment to splash water at her friend, as Nate joined in the fun.

"Thanks, but no thanks," Blair sighed. "Some of us have actually grown up since the last time we stayed here." With that, she swished back into the house, careful not to drip water on the linoleum. Up in her room, the ever-present perfectionist in her took two and a half hours to get ready. As she curled her hair into shiny waves and slid mascara onto her long lashes, she could still hear splashing and squeals coming from the pool. Of course, Serena would only take three minutes to get ready, and she managed to look flawless and unruly every time she stepped out. Blair frowned, yanking a brush through her hair. Why wasn't Carter tormenting _Serena_? She wasn't going to play baby Kelly all summer while bombshell Barbie was treated like a queen. Blair yanked a tiny red number from her recently unpacked wardrobe, fingering the tight silk.

She wasn't the little girl she used to be.

Blair slipped the dress on, letting her hair fall in loose curls rather than bothering to tie it up into an intricate knot. Knowing Carter, he'd just try and push her into a fountain. After smudging a bit of ruby red gloss onto her lips, she smiled at herself in the mirror. Straying from loose lace and prim pearls, she actually managed to look one of the more demure models on the covers of Maxim. Satisfied with herself, she twirled out of her room and into the hall.

She stopped short when she realized that the door across from hers was slightly open, revealing a rumpled figure laying across his king-sized bed. She'd last seen Chuck Bass at the Sheperds' wedding the month before. She had loved taunting him as he had done when they were young. She stared for a moment, feeling an inexplicable twist in her stomach at seeing his opened dress shirt, the hair on his chest. She took a breath before pushing the door open.

Chuck was startled, but only for a moment. He scanned the tight red dress, her tanned legs, and smiled at her. Blair risked a smile back, her eyes flitting to his closed closet. "Hiding any burn-out bimbos in here?"

Chuck ignored her question, sitting up in bed. "Audrey, right?" He paused. "Or is it Scarlet?"

"Blair," she corrected. "You pretended you didn't know me."

Chuck raised his eyebrows. "You pretended you _did _know me." He pulled a cigarette from his nightstand, rolling it between two of his fingertips as he watched her. "You look good. You look really…" He swallowed, uncharacteristically honest. "Really good."

"You shouldn't smoke," Blair scolded, ignoring his compliment. Her flush was enough of a response.

"Why?" Chuck smirked. "Will it kill me?" Blair parted her lips to affirm this, but he cut her off. "Don't worry, Waldorf. I quit last year."

"But…" Blair pointed to the object in his hand.

He raised a finger to his lips, silencing her. "I like to keep one around. There's a method to my madness." His eyes glinted, and Blair stared. He was completely unreadable, incomprehensible, a lock without a key in sight. She didn't like it.

Just as she was about to excuse herself, they heard a thunderous splash from outside. They both walked over to the window, watching as Carter, Nate, and Serena lugged out of the pool and traipsed back inside, an army of bobbing blonde heads. Chuck regarded them coolly, sitting back against the glass.

"Is it difficult," Blair found herself asking, "to be their half-brother?"

Chuck's smile didn't quite reach his eyes. "It's not something you would understand."

Blair shook her head. "I know all about shadows." Chuck's eyes snapped up to her face, his throat constricting, the gaze hardening until he forced Blair to shift with a simple look. The moment tensed and released, an inhale before the exhale, and Blair thought it best to veer away from it. "Anyway…I thought I'd set some ground rules."

"Ground rules," Chuck mused, crossing his arms over his chest.

"If we're going to be living together this summer," Blair frowned. "There should be some sort of…civil code."

Chuck coughed back a chuckle. "The thought of being cuffed by Waldorf law enforcement sounds so appealing."

"Bass," Blair warned. "I'm serious."

"As am I," Chuck leered. She cast him another dirty look, and he softened, raising his hands in surrender. "Fine, lay them on me." He watched as Blair skipped back into her room, returning with a little black notebook. He shook his head, awestruck as she flipped through the pages, settling on a neatly printed list. Chuck couldn't hold back his amusement any longer. "You're kidding."

Blair ignored him, scanning the page and clearing her throat. "Number one: I won't be dragged along into your debauchery this summer – neither yours or Carter's. I'm not around to clean up the messes you two are bound to make."

"I'm nothing like Carter," Chuck stated, his expression smooth.

"Right. You're worse," Blair agreed. "I can't see you coming." Before Chuck could argue, Blair went on. "And second, this isn't a brothel. I'm not interested in seeing your slew of groupies crowding up the house. And if I find any variation of trashy lingerie on the furniture, I'll…"

"You should really get out more," Chuck interrupted, turning away from her. He snatched the book from her hand, tossing it into the wastebasket across the room. "I've never been one to follow the rules, Waldorf. You should have inferred that by now."

"_Hey_," Blair yelped, hesitating before saying a silent goodbye to her tainted planner.

"But if this is a jealousy thing," Chuck continued, smiling to himself. "I'd be glad to satiate you."

"We're done here," Blair snapped, spinning on her heel to hide her blush. "I'll see you downstairs." Chuck watched her go, smiling as she tottered out of his room and slammed the door behind her. He backed away, tossing his cigarette to join her discarded notebook in the trash.

:::

"To a wonderful summer," Eleanor cooed at dinner, raising her glass of champagne. "And to the Bass-Waldorf reunion." Nate nudged Blair's arm as Bart raised his glass even higher, resting a non-committal hand on Anne Bass' shoulder. All around the table, their children raised their glasses with low murmurs. Blair was sandwiched between Nate and Serena, who was giggling to her frumpy companion, Dan Humphrey. His little sister, Jenny, was poking at her spare rib on his other side, keeping mostly to herself. Carter and Chuck sat on either head of the long table, Carter making no effort to hide the fact that he was checking Blair out, and Chuck hiding it completely. The parents sat on the other side of their children like a wall reflecting their imminent futures right back to them. Bart and Eleanor talked business as the former's eyes strayed to Lily van der Woodsen, who sat stylishly in a white shift dress. And then there was Anne, Carter and Nate's mother, who carved into her food like she was on a mission, hardly making an effort to socialize.

It was astonishing that no one mistook this for a circus act.

"Here we go," Nate whispered to Blair as she pushed food around her plate. Blair snapped to attention, noticing the drama unfolding at the opposite end of the table. Chuck looked amused as Carter rolled his eyes at his father, carving into his steak with ardor.

"You don't need to be traipsing around third world countries like some sort of bumpkin," Bart said, the laugh in his voice sharp. "I've let this go on for long enough. You'll return home in September. And you'll assume your position at Bass Industries."

"I'll see if I can fit it in between Egypt and Indonesia," Carter said, rumpling his hair. He avoided his father's eyes, the amusement fading from his light features. He felt Blair watching him, and he tried to play off the moment, casting her a quick wink. She didn't believe the obnoxious smarm for a second.

"Your father is serious, Carter," Anne said in a hush, attempting to avert the table's attention away from their little debacle. Carter shrank in his seat and, for a moment, he looked younger than even Nate was. Chuck seemed to noticed this too, and it was either an ounce of sympathy or pure boredom that drove him to chime into the conversation.

"As much as I enjoy the prodigal son spiel," Chuck drawled, glancing at Blair before glancing back at his father. "It's been done before. What do you say we – "

"Please, Charles," Anne snapped in a tone sharper than Blair realized she could manage. "This is a family matter." Chuck's eyes hardened at the comment, at his sudden exclusion. Blair gasped and Serena shook her head, appalled at what she was hearing. Anne's eyes widened as the rest of the table turned to look at her. "Charles, I didn't mean…" But Chuck was already pushing away from the table, disappearing from the room. He left his plate untouched, his napkin unused, the conversation unfinished.

And it was Bart who cleared his throat, taking on the feeble role of a mock patriarch as he sat up. "I think that concludes dinner for the night."

:::

Later that night, Blair slipped on a pale blue nightie, bidding farewell to Serena as she slipped out of her bedroom. The blonde had spent hours rehashing the dinner with Blair, but now her friend was lost to the other wing of the mansion, where the Humphreys were shacked up for the rest of the summer. Blair sighed, remembering Carter's stricken down look, the angry glint in Chuck's eyes as he'd stormed away from the table. What had her mother tangled them into? The Bass family was surely too dysfunctional to fathom spending the summer with, let alone forming some sort of _bond _with.

Blair's door was open in front of her, revealing Chuck's closed one. She crossed into the hall, lifting her hand to knock on the white hardwood. She thought for a moment, her fist poised in front of her. And then she dropped her arm, shaking her head before turning away.

It was a shame, really, that on the other end, Chuck Bass was slumped against his doorframe, listening to the light footsteps on the other side of the wall, his heart lifting at the thought of a petite brunette gracing him with her company. But they would never know how their story would have unraveled, had Blair turned the knob of that door, had she not wandered down to the patio, where Carter Bass was slumped in front of the glittering pool.

"Hi," was all Blair could muster up, suddenly conscious of her thin nightgown. She took a seat on one of the wicker chairs, stretching her bare legs out in front of her.

"Hey, beautiful," Carter said, his mouth feebly lifting into a half-hearted smile. "Enjoy your dip in the pool earlier?" He paused, cocking his head back. "Or were you too enraptured by my mini-me to notice?"

Blair frowned at him. "Are you…You mean Nate?" Blair shook her head. "You're nothing like Nate."

"No?"

"You're an asshole," Blair admitted, shocked at her own slip of profanity. Carter recoiled for a moment, and then he laughed, a loud, joyous laugh that brightened his features. Blair found herself smiling as she watched him, his dress shirt fluttering open to reveal the smooth planes of his chest, his tan pants fitted to him perfectly.

"That I am," Carter shrugged, shoving his hands in his pocket. "So what are you doing hanging around in the dark with assholes like me?"

"I…"

"Swim with me," Carter challenged before she could finished, shrugging the shirt from his shoulders, working the buttons of his pants to reveal navy boxers. Blair swallowed, thrown by the sudden shift in conversation, forcing her eyes up to his cocky grin.

"What are you, a merman?" Blair scoffed. "What's your obsession with water?"

"I just enjoy getting you wet," Carter grinned, reveling in the blatant innuendo. Blair forced an appalled look on her face, shaking her head in protest. It was then that Carter softened, reaching out a hand to lift her from her seat. "Come on, Blair." Blair watched his dim eyes, letting out a breath as he appeared the most honest she'd ever seen him.

"I'm not wearing a swimsuit."

"I won't look."

A smirk of disbelief.

"Okay, I might look."

And then, before she could analyze the situation, weigh the pros and cons, or back away, Carter was dragging her over to the edge of the pool, his hand much too big for her tiny fingers. Blair took a breath as he counted down from three, excitedly positioning himself beside her.

And there was no need for pushing this time, no tugging or pulling or teasing.

Together, they just…jumped.

* * *

**Author's Note: **Whew. Hey guys! How is everyone? I want to thank all of you who took the time to read and review the preface of this experimental little summer story. I know that this concept is a little different and risky, so I hope I'm doing it justice. So yes, how are you guys feeling about my Bass brother creations? ...Is that a weird way to phrase it? Probably. Just to let you know, this story isn't geared towards any one ship. I want to create an entirely new series out of this, start fresh, and have you fall for whichever boy strikes your fancy. As always, I'd love to hear predictions and opinions, and if you're Team Chuck, Carter, or Nate. Your reviews are much appreciated. xoxo, N


	3. Viva La Vida

**Chapter 2. Viva La Vida**

It was a spectacle, really – to watch the Bass brothers eat together.

It had become somewhat of an unspoken tradition among the three when they were only children – Carter and Chuck just a grade apart in some elite elementary school in midtown, and Nate just about to graduate from first grade. They were seated around a table that was much too big for a family that was never truly a family, but their plates were still filled with pancakes and fresh sausages, their nanny bustling round them in the midst of last minute morning preparations.

Chuck had on his bowtie, striped and prim around his neck, and Nate had on the same color tie to match, crooked against his shirt as the seven year old rumpled his own hair. Carter simply looked bored as he shrugged his blazer on, the top button of his Oxford opened to reveal the white tee underneath.

"This is stupid," Carter sighed. "I'm ready to go. And it's not like Dad's ever in the mood for bonding."

Chuck's eyes flitted up to his brother. "You're just upset because you ran out of hair gel." The middle Bass smirked as he remembered using up the rest of Carter's expensive bottle of hair styling product that morning. Chuck's dark hair was perfectly quaffed, while bits of hair stuck up from Carter's scalp.

Carter was just about to bite back with some remark about Chuck's miniature collection of ascots when they heard a crash from the next room, glass shattering like a song of misery that sent them all into a momentary paralysis. Nate opened his eyes wide, kicking his feet under the table, and Chuck nudged him to quiet down as they listened.

"I'm trying to keep this family together, Bart," came Anne Bass' cold, toneless voice from the next room. "I've done everything you wanted me to do. I've smiled for the pictures, I've abandoned my Vanderbilt legacy in favor of becoming a Bass, and I'm raising that _woman's _son."

"Enough," Bart spat in a voice that chilled over Anne's. "You think you're anything more than a Stepford wife drawing out my accounts – " His words were muffled when the dining room door clicked shut, and their nanny raised a scolding finger and pointed them back to their meals. Carter's joke faded as he watched Chuck's expression sink, his lips set into a permanent straight line, his eyes turning to coal.

"Hey," Carter tried, speaking over the muffled argument. He kicked Chuck's leg under the table. "You know, they do call me the best Bass." Chuck narrowed his eyes as his brother challenged him, already forgetting Anne's words. Carter stuck a fork into his stack of pancakes and waved the breakfast kabob in the air. "Bet I can polish this off before you."

Chuck rolled his eyes, relaxing. "What are we – babies?" He shoved his plate aside and replaced it with a bowl of strawberries. "You sound like Nate."

"Hey," Nate pouted, blue eyes widening. "I'm the best Bass." His elder brothers chuckled as the boy stuffed his face with pancakes, skillfully cleaning his plate in under a minute. Their nanny shouted something in Russian, arms waving in horror as Nate's freshly pressed uniform was stained with crumbs and spilled jelly. She picked the boy up and carried him away, even as he shouted, "The best Bass! The best Bass!"

"How is it that you and I fight," Carter started, stretching his arms out, "and Nate always wins?"

"Don't know," Chuck shrugged, aiming to be mysterious and aloof – even in the fourth grade. "If it interests you so much, why don't you ask someone who cares?"

"Hm," Carter laughed, tossing his head back as the two boys headed off to school, listening to Nate giggle in the background. "So mean to your favorite older brother." Carter snatched two sleek black lunch boxes from the edge of the table - each the exact same size, filled with the same contents in order to avoid another fight between the two – and handed one to Chuck.

"Older by a year," Chuck smirked, stepping past him to get the best seat in the limo. "Not by mental capacity."

Years later, they were seated in the exact same order around the 1770 House's wicker indoor seating, although summer clothes now replaced their uniforms. The cool breeze drifted in through the cracked open glass doors as the wait staff filled their coffee cups to the rim and dropped food onto their plates. As always, Nate was nearly shirtless, gulping down scrambled eggs as if it were his last meal. Chuck filled him in on his latest conquest in Thailand while he flipped through the business section of the Times.

"Man, you have to let me get a crack at that black book," Nate grinned.

"Nathaniel," Chuck drawled, taking a loud bite from his toast, "even nineteen years under my wing hasn't prepared you for the hedonism and stamina required to crack open my book." Chuck raised his eyebrows. "And besides, I have little use for it this summer." The espresso was bitter on his tongue when he drank it down.

"Oh?" Nate frowned. "Who's this year's victim?" Nate coughed, leaning back. "I mean girl."

Chuck smiled down at the newspaper, his mind drifting to Blair in that little red dress of hers, a color that just couldn't match the flush on her skin, the scathingly rich shade of her lips. He suddenly grew uncomfortable, remembering her squeals when she'd jumped into the pool with Carter the night before. They'd only lasted five minutes before Blair rolled her eyes and shoved him away, stealing his shirt to wrap around herself before heading inside.

But Chuck hadn't enjoyed the way Carter had watched her go – lust striking interest, interest seeing a challenge. He straightened out his plaid vest, smoothing out the pink dress shirt underneath. Of the three, he'd developed the most colorful style – seizing on something that Carter would never pull off and Nate simply wouldn't know how to do.

"Morning kids," Carter sighed, padding into the dining room. He stole the last piece of toast from Chuck's plate and plucked the newspaper from his hands.

"You know," Chuck said. "There's no 'How-To for Idiots' guide in the business section. You might have some trouble with all of the numbers."

"I don't know, Chuck. I saw you reading it," Carter laughed. "It can't be that hard."

As their banter commenced, Blair shamelessly eavesdropped from her hidden spot on the patio, curled up in the soft hammock with a worn novel in her hands. But _Vanity Fair _did little to hold her attention in comparison to the brotherly dynamic unfolding before her. Chuck and Carter's argument was biting, but it was still kind. Neither touched on anything that would truly hurt the other, and then there was Nate – adorably stuck in the middle of it…

"What are we looking at?"

The voice sent Blair's book over the edge of her hammock, ripped pages hitting the floor. Blair furiously glared at the intruder and his rumpled khaki shorts and – _God _– wife beater. Dan grinned and raised his hand in a half-wave as Blair glowered at him. She snatched her book from the floor and held it in front of her face, willing him away, but –

"Hey, Blair," Dan tried again. "Look, I haven't formally introduced myself yet. I'm Dan, Serena's – "

"No," Blair clarified, raising a hand to halt him. "You weren't mistaken. I was actually ignoring you." She turned back to her book, obviously opening to a random page to distract from what she had really been watching.

"So," Dan replied, "You really are as sweet as everyone says."

"Shove it, Humphrey," Blair spat as she pulled the green Bvlgari sunglasses from her hair and shoved them back over eyes. Unfortunately, Dan failed to take the hint and stepped closer to her, peering at the glass doors near the hammock, where Chuck, Nate, and Carter were laughing at some joke on the other side.

Dan's eyes widened. "Don't tell me…"

"Whatever you're thinking – I can guarantee you that you're wrong." Blair fanned herself, forcing the blush away from her cheeks.

"If you have a thing for one of them…" Dan shoved his hands in his pockets. "Is it Carter?"

"_Carter_?" Blair echoed, pushing up from her seat. "God, it's bad enough that you interrupted my reading time, but then you dared to offend my taste?" She shot him a look as he followed her down the patio steps, irritatingly persistent now that he'd struck a chord with her.

"So, it's Nate then?"

"Why do you _care_?" Blair let out a sharp breath when her flip-flop hit the sand and the sun soaked her skin from overhead. She tried to focus on the waves as she searched for a route of escape. "I'd rather be caught in fake Prada than fall for a Bass – not that it's any of your concern."

Dan relented, seeing that he'd actually upset her. "I'm sorry – "

"No, I'm sorry," Blair said, her smile eerily sweet. "I must have done _something _to lead you to believe that it was okay to strike up a conversation with me." She paused, her eyes narrowing. "Let me know what it is. So that it never happens again." Blair stormed off, kicking her sandals back and sighing with relief when she spotted waves of blonde hair down the beach. She joined Serena with a heavy sigh, crossing her arms over her chest.

"Your boyfriend is abhorrent," Blair complained, kicking sand at the blonde's leg. Serena laughed, swinging her arm around her friend's neck – a gesture that was promptly shrugged off.

"B, you're asking for it," Serena warned.

"Asking for wha – " Blair screamed when she was hit with a chock full of wet sand, aimed straight at her side. "God. What are we – ten?" She scowled, scraping her dainty white cover-up off. She pouted, mumbling, "This is Missoni."

"I guess you'll just have to take it off, tan with me, and relax," Serena shrugged. A smile tugged at her lips when she handed Blair a bottle of coconut suntan lotion.

Up the beach and back in the house, Chuck glanced up just as Blair slid the straps of her thin dress off her shoulders, revealing the pop of her purple bikini underneath. He licked his lips, watching as she shimmied out of the cotton, letting it drop around her feet. He made no movement at first, just stared past Carter as he talked to keep Nate oblivious. Chuck sipped his spiked orange juice to muffle a groan as Blair turned towards the water, dropping low to pick up her dress.

He was just about to excuse himself in favor of perusing the beach when Serena's loud laughter broke into their conversation. Chuck cursed when Carter turned around, and Nate directed his attention to the blonde.

"I was wondering why you were so unusually attentive," Carter smirked, his eyes on Blair. "And now I know." The three simultaneously got up from the table, loud scrapes sounding over their silent duel. But before any of them could make it to the door, two more figures appeared on the beach – two guys clad in typical Hamptons summer wear: light cardigans and fitted pants. Chuck and Carter shared an eye roll.

They made it down just in time to hear thick foreign accents roll through the air, then to see Blair and Serena laugh as the boys leaned in.

"Well," Blair started, teasing and flirtatious. Chuck narrowed his eyes as he closed in, listening closer. "This _is _a private beach. But I suppose we can make an exception."

"I suppose we could," Carter chimed in, slinging an arm around Blair. "If, of course, the Bass side of the household approved." Blair rolled her eyes, elbowing Carter's side.

"Excuse my brother," Nate apologized, shaking his head. "I'm Nate Bass." Both Serena and Blair swallowed as he appeared behind them, shirtless.

"Ah, pardon us," drawled the shorter of the two men in a heavy French accent. "I'm Louis, and this is my good friend, James. We've come from Europe for the summer – just to see how you Americans enjoy your breaks."

"Fascinating," Chuck smirked. Blair felt his breath on the back of her neck, and she shivered despite the heat. She felt him reach into his pocket and surface with a cigarette but, as always, he only rolled it between his fingertips, leaving it unlit.

"Europe," Blair swooned, stepping away from the little Bass posse that had formed behind her. "What a coincidence." Her eyes lit up as she placed a hand on her hip, ironically aware that she was the most scantily dressed of the group. "I vacation on the outskirts of Paris with my father, and I was just in Rome for a week last semester." She leaned forward, as if it were a big secret. "My second semester at Yale University."

"Mine too," Nate tried.

"And this is Serena," Blair cut in, gesturing to her best friend. "Who has a boyfriend." Serena rolled her eyes at Blair's addition and waved, quickly excusing herself in search of Dan – or any other reprieve, really. Blair let out a little sigh of relief as Serena wrapped a sarong around herself and headed back up the beach. Nate trailed after her, saying something about being starved – leaving Carter and Chuck to partake in a stare down with James and Louis, and Blair willing the former away.

"Tonight. There is a…" Louis frowned. "What do you call…" He trailed off, and Chuck seemed unimpressed until James interjected.

"A bonfire," James said in his lifting English accent. His gaze centered on Blair. "It would be a pleasure to see you there, Blair."

"It _would_ be a pleasure," Carter interjected. "I've been craving a good party." Blair watched in horror as he stole her invitation, whipping out his phone in front of James. "Have an address?" James grinned and nodded, smiling at Blair before reading out the way to Angle Beach. Blair smiled back through gritted teeth before taking a step back and turning to Chuck.

"Go. _Away_," Blair hissed.

"I'm much too busy enjoying the show," Chuck whispered back.

"He's _your _brother. Do something," Blair demanded. Louis frowned at them for a moment before glancing back at Carter and James. But Chuck only laughed, eyes glinting at the scene before him.

"Fine," Blair sighed. She pasted on a smile when she turned back to James, then placed a hand on Louis' arm. "Tonight then. I'll do my best to…" Her lips turned into a coy smile, and she shot pointed glances at Carter and Chuck before wrapping the stained cover-up around her small form. "Make an appearance."

:::

"Hey, Serena!"

Serena whipped around, strands of hair falling around her face in a perfect storm. Her smile was bright when she spotted Nate following her up the beach, and she stopped with a little spin. By the water, Carter was getting chummy with the two foreigners, and Blair was storming off in the opposite direction as Chuck watched on.

"Nate," Serena greeted, cocking her hip before she could stop herself. She didn't mean to flirt – or, maybe she did. Her voice was brazenly breathy when she murmured, "Hi."

"Hey," Nate repeated. He bent over, hands on his knees, as he caught his breath. "So we're all on for tonight – thanks to Blair."

"Yeah," Serena laughed. "B sure is something. But I'm sure you heard about her infamous takedowns when we were in high school."

"Blair's great," Nate replied, his eyes suddenly losing focus as he thought of the brunette. Serena swallowed as he went on. "She's so – "

"I was just going to get lunch before getting ready," Serena cut in. "And Blair doesn't like to eat before we go to the beach." Serena felt mean as she rolled her eyes, realizing that it was a total jab at her best friend. "Want to come with?"

"I…" Nate's grin was intoxicatingly charming. "Sure. Let me grab a shirt." But Nate backtracked as they walked to the house, his boyish features frowning as he remembered something. "Your boyfriend won't mind, will he? Dan, right?"

"Right," Serena confirmed, thinking of the eclectic, scraggly-haired boy who'd won her over in a whirlwind of lovelorn poetry and yummy coffee cups. But now, looking at Nate's bright eyes, his tanned and toned body, she realized that all that glittered didn't exactly measure up to real gold.

"No," Serena said, shooting him another smile. "Dan won't mind at all."

:::

"Their _accents_," Blair sighed, worrying the knot of her pink halter dress as she smiled at her reflection. "And the way they were dressed. They looked like royalty taking social recluse in the Hamptons." She piled her hair up into a neat up-do and bit her lip. "I was so wrong about this summer, S. Now that I've stumbled upon some elite prospects, I can focus on formally sorting through the most eligible bachelors."

"And those bachelors wouldn't include the ones living under our roof, would they?" Serena raised her eyebrows as she helped Blair fix her dress.

Blair rolled her eyes. "I'm referring to Louis and James." Blair shook her head. "And if you were free of the mongrel you forced on us this summer, you could benefit from a French man in your life."

"So we're going to pretend that Carter doesn't use any chance he can get to touch you, and Chuck isn't constantly undressing you with his eyes?" Serena smiled, but her tone was slightly bitter.

"Oh, you're just jealous because every boy in sight isn't fawning over sunshine Barbie," Blair joked, but her words fell like deadweight in the room, pulling them back to high school tensions and jealousies – sitting on the steps of the MET in a silent power struggle. Blair scanned Serena's stark white Greecian gown and then quickly looked away. She steadied her breath before turning around completely. "Look, S, you chose your lower-league lifestyle when you went to Brown."

"_Lower-league_?" Serena echoed, incredulous. "Blair, we both know why I turned Yale down – and it had nothing to do with what I wanted."

"Right. Because you were such a scholar at Constance." Blair paused for a moment, considering a surefire way to win this argument. "And tell me, Serena. Where have you been all afternoon? You certainly weren't around the house. Did you forget to invite me into town?"

Serena froze. "I was with Dan."

"No," Blair argued. "Because the Hemingway knock-off decided to take up writing in my hammock for two hours. Unless you were hiding in that hammock doing unspeakable things – "

"Blair…"

"Or maybe," Blair continued, "Your disappearance had something to do with Nate's." When Blair was done with the mirror, she spun around. "It's not as amusing when someone else is blowing your cover, is it? Honestly, Serena. You should know better at this point."

Serena softened. "I don't want to fight with you, B. About Nate – "

But Blair only shook her head as she went for the door. "I'll see you downstairs."

She shrugged a white cardigan on, listening to Carter honk the horn of his rental as he yelled out, _"Any day now, Waldorf." _Blair resisted the urge to strangle him as she ducked back into the den near the kitchen for a moment, collecting herself as she tucked a curl behind her ear. She hobbled on one foot, hooking her finger under the strap of one high heel. Blair tottered for a moment before she felt a hand on the small of her back, then another sliding down her thigh, skimming her calf, then righting her shoe.

"Need help?" Chuck whispered, moving her hand away. Blair gasped at the position they were in – him behind her, his hands on her as she bent over -

"I'm fine, thank you," Blair insisted, standing up straight. Chuck smiled at her, that smile that reached his eyes and pulled her in, that smile like he dared to know something that she didn't. It was then that she realized he only had slacks on, his white dress shirt casual, his bowtie hanging loose around his neck. "Aren't you coming to the bonfire?"

"I'm not," Chuck said, raking his eyes over her petite form. "And you are? You didn't strike me as having a flair for the bohemian."

"It's not _bohemian_," Blair said, suddenly feeling unsure about her choice in venue. "You saw James and Louis. They were highly esteemed, well-mannered – "

"Well-bred, you mean," he chuckled. Blair frowned. Why was he standing so close to her when the den was completely entirely spacious enough? "You know, Waldorf, white knights aren't nearly as entertaining as trying your hand in the dark." Chuck's fingertip made a straight line down her arm and into the crook of her elbow as he spoke. "And it's such a lovely night to stay in."

Blair swallowed, letting him trace the invisible line back up to the cure of her shoulder. "What are you saying, Bass?"

"I – "

"Blair, is that Carter making a ruckus outside?" Eleanor called out from another room, forcing Blair to pry her arm away and catch her breath. Chuck suddenly seemed sinister in the dim lighting, and she heard Carter yell threats to leave without her.

"I'm going now," Blair whispered, straightening out her dress.

"Enjoy," Chuck drawled, letting her free.

"I _will_," Blair retorted, and it made Chuck laugh – they way she argued in normal conversation, how her face crinkled when she was upset, which was all of the time. She glanced at him over her shoulder before she left the room. And he was left with the smell of her – peonies and promise.

And it stayed with him long after he tried to drown it in gin and regret.

:::

"Took you long enough," Carter remarked when Blair slid into the backseat of the silver Audi beside Serena, who quickly squeezed Blair's hand to assure her that all was forgotten from their argument at the house. Blair smiled back, still dazed from the heady feeling of being so close to Chuck Bass. In front of her, Nate turned in his seat as Carter began to drive.

"Hey, you," Nate said, grinning at Blair. "You look good." Blair flushed until he turned to Serena as well. "You, too, Serena."

"No threesomes in the rental," Carter growled, only half-kidding. He laughed when Blair leaned forward to flick the back of his head, murmuring about him being absolutely disgusting. She shrieked when he looked away from the road to make eyes at her and slapped his head again.

"You're the worst," Blair pouted.

"That's a record thirty times you've called me that," Carter smirked, turning onto the main road. "And the summer's only just begun." And it was true. All around them were glitzy vacationers in bursts of orange and pink, sundresses and Moccasins, obviously in search of that night's entertainment. It only took them twenty minutes to get down to the beach – but they could see the embers dancing in the air over the fire from a mile away. Serena clapped her hands as Nate slung an arm over the side of the car, eager to get there.

Blair hooked her arm through Serena's as they followed the boys down to the small crowd forming in front of a white summerhouse, flames casting shadows across blue shutters and swirling finishes.

"Not bad," Carter shrugged, immediately grabbing for a beer when they arrived. Blair rolled her eyes, snatching the bottle from his hands before it could touch his lips.

"You're our designated driver, Carter," Blair stated, frowning down at the substance. "You're mentally deranged as it is. Let's not throw intoxication into the mix." Carter made another grab for it, but Blair shifted away, scolding him as if he were a small child – which he wasn't so far from being.

"So uptight," Carter sighed, massaging one of her shoulders. "Such a shame that you can't let loose."

"Stop."

"Stop what?"

"Stop trying to goad me on," Blair said, crossing her arms over her chest. She waved at a group of girls as they passed, swooning groupies she remembered from Constance, then glanced at Carter. "It's transparent."

"I'm just saying," Carter said, dropping to press his lips to her ear and wrap an arm around her waist. Blair faintly recalled Serena's words as he spoke. _Because Carter uses any chance you can get to touch you. _His thumb ran over the curve of her hip. "That girl who jumped in the pool with me last night seemed like she'd be the life of the party."

He was challenging her, and she knew it.

Which was why Blair kept her eyes on Carter when she raised the beer bottle to her lips, pressing an imprint into her flawless lipstick, and raised her eyebrows, taking a stealthy sip.

"Enjoy proving me wrong, beautiful?" Carter smirked, cupping her chin with one hand. Blair scowled at the bitter taste, wanting nothing more than to spit the gulp out. But she held firm, smiling as she drank again.

"_B_," Serena interrupted, glancing between the two. "What are you doing?"

"Having fun," Blair quipped. And then she sauntered off, still holding the beer in one hand, a contradiction to her prim posture. Serena narrowed her eyes at Carter as he admired her, waiting until she was out of sight to grab a beer for himself anyway. And then he smiled, raising his drink in cheers, before looking for Blair again.

But Blair was, generally speaking, a tiny girl. In only twenty minutes, she was buzzed, her arm hooked through James' as they talked to Louis. Even in her tipsiness, Blair was completely proper, but she showed her flirtation with heavy glances and affectionate touches. And when the music picked up, she dragged James to the center of their plot of sand, throwing her arms around his neck. Blair paid no attention to Serena as she swayed her hips to the beat, missing the fact that her best friend was awfully close to the youngest Bass on their makeshift dance floor.

"I'm glad to see you here, Blair." James smiled, and Blair smiled back. But when she pulled closer, James respectfully drew back, holding her sides as they moved ridiculously slowly to house music. She was appalled. She was _Blair Waldorf_, and her advances were scarcely put out there. Which meant that she would _not _be rejected when they were.

Blair was just about to excuse herself when she felt her dress snag on something behind her, pulling her out of James' arms and flush against someone's front. James frowned, and Blair gasped when Carter's voice sounded in her ear.

"I'm cutting in," Carter stated, neither asking nor repentant. James looked doubtful as he let them be, and Blair was furious when Carter's fingers spread out over her thighs. But when she anchored her hands on his forearms, she felt oddly taken by his motions behind her. This was what she had wanted – freedom. To not be treated like some breakable doll.

It was so indecent – the way he ground her back against him again and again. His shirt was unbuttoned, and her dress dipped low in the back – and her skin burned everywhere it touched his. Maybe Blair was drowning, but when she reached, he was her anchor too. Her body rubbed against Carter's, and one of his hands cupped her ribs, just under her breast.

_If you have a thing for one of them…is it Carter?_

Blair's eyes snapped open, and her head lifted from Carter's shoulder, just as his other hand wrapped around her thigh, almost underneath her dress. She regained her senses and her footing as she turned to look at him, seeing Chuck's eyes, Nate's smile, and then all of Carter once again.

"This can't happen," Blair stated.

"What exactly do you think – " Carter started, but Blair pressed a hand to her forehead before she shoved away, ignoring Carter calling her name as she made her way through the crowd.

She found James back by the house, and Blair quickly turned on the role of damsel in distress as she asked him to take her home. She managed to dodge Carter, Nate, and Serena on the way to his – _God_ – Camaro. Blair sulked as she sat upon the leather, claiming to be dehydrated as she focused in on the spot of skin inside of her thigh, where she was sure that Carter's touch had left a mark.

:::

"Are you sure you wouldn't like me to walk you inside?" James asked for the tenth time. Blair forced herself to smile, but his accent was beginning to irritate her, and his chitchat did nothing to appease her European fantasies. Blair politely declined, resisting the urge to roll her eyes when he kissed her hand, then her cheek.

"Goodnight," Blair chirped, taking a deep breath before planting one heel on the gravel driveway. As his car pulled away, Blair frowned, pondering how to go about this. She'd always been a social drinker – always girlishly tipsy, but never full on drunk. And now her head swam and the 1770 House appeared to be a daunting maze of stairs and corners before her. So she settled upon avoiding the entry all together. Instead, she stumbled around the back of the house in order to fitfully avoid any run-ins with Eleanor. She found herself sitting on the back patio steps as she let out a breath from all the exertion.

"Charles, I wanted to apologize for what I said at dinner. It was out of line."

Blair glanced around at the voice, wondering if she was hallucinating Anne's presence. But the voices were coming from the other end of the patio, down by the pool area, where she could see Chuck's shadow and Anne standing behind him.

"Hm," Chuck mused, kicking back a drink. "You're the one who doesn't care for big spectacles." Blair crawled closer, frowning at the evident pain in Chuck's crisp tone. "Especially when it comes to the scandal of Bart Bass' bastard child."

"From the beginning, I've taken you into this family," Anne stated, clasping her hands together. Chuck rolled his eyes at the word, but she pretended not to notice. "When Bart wanted to – "

"When Bart wanted to _what_?"

"I…"

"If you have something you want to claim, go ahead, Anne," Chuck snapped. His words were fighting, and Blair had never seen the man so vicious. She caught traces of his face, of the beautiful madness there as he stared up at a woman who would never be his mother.

"There's nothing, Charles," Anne cut firmly. Her mouth was etched into that permanent frown of hers when she pulled Chuck's flask from his hands. "Please refrain from spiking everything in the house, and manage to control yourself." Her heels clicked in a steady rhythm when she returned to the house.

Blair frowned again, her hand slipping over the step she was on. And then she was up, and her legs were pushing her towards the pool, where she reached for a wicker chair and managed to startle Chuck for once. She wasn't sure if he looked pleased or disturbed when she sank down beside him, her dress uncharacteristically rumpled.

"Waldorf."

"Bass." Blair paused, attempting to focus. "I overheard your talk with Anne. Or rather…lack thereof."

"This house is too small," Chuck commented, pursing his lips.

"_My_ mother," Blair began, "is a bitch." Chuck glanced up in utter amusement at her words, studying her face as she went on. "When I was five years old, she cancelled my birthday party because it looked too juvenile for the release of her winter collection." Blair shook her head. "A five year old's party was _too juvenile_."

"Waldorf," Chuck laughed, placing a hand on her knee to steady her. "Are you drunk?"

"Don't condescend me," Blair snapped. "I don't get drunk. I…" But her words were slurred and her speech was sloppy, and nothing was happening the way she wanted it to. So she settled on repeating, "I am _not _drunk."

"No?" Chuck mused. "Walk to me."

Blair frowned. "What?"

"Come over here." Chuck sat back as he said it, challenging her with glimmering eyes. Blair noticed that he was no longer upset, and it pleased her – especially in her intoxication. All remnants from Anne's little spiel were gone as he grinned at her. And something tugged at her chest, making her want more. So she attempted to walk to him, clearly believing that she was fine until she swerved straight for the pool. But before Blair could even near the water, her feet left the ground, and her legs hooked over an arm, her body cradled into a chest.

"What are you doing?" Blair protested. She saw flashes of the house pass her by as Chuck carried her upstairs.

"When you throw yourself at me," Chuck huffed, "it'll be when you're sober." Blair groaned at his guarantee, but she was silenced by a wave of exhaustion. It wasn't long before he unceremoniously dropped her onto her bed, watching her wriggle over the sheets for a moment. When he was in high school, before he had even slightly matured, he would have done something completely immoral, like scoping out the details of his future conquest.

But now, Chuck found himself pulling off her ridiculous heels and dropping them to the floor. Blair stared up at him as her tiny feet slid across her sheets. Chuck raised his eyebrows and sat at the edge of her bed.

"I'm going to take your dress off," Chuck stated, subtly asking her permission. "And then you're going to sleep it off under this." Chuck lifted her comforter.

Blair rolled her eyes and mumbled, "You wish, Bass."

But Chuck ignored her, reaching to slide the pink material from her skin, waiting until she raised her arms and allowed him to help her. Just as he pulled the dress over her head, he whispered, "It's nothing I haven't seen before, Waldorf."

But he was lying. Looking at her milky skin, the beauty marks forming tantalizing patterns across her body, Chuck realized that he'd never seen anything like Blair Waldorf. Her white La Perlas were innocent, but the way they stretched over her curves, contrasting against her dark hair, lured him in like nothing else. It was almost a shame to drop the blanket over her, allowing his fingers to brush over her hair before he left her completely.

Later that night, as he stared up at his ceiling, Chuck remembered what she'd said days before. _I know all about shadows._

But when he looked at Blair, all he saw was light.

:::

"Rise and shine, Waldorf."

Blair stirred and groaned in bed, weighed down by a torturous pain in her head. Light suddenly filled the room, momentarily blinding her as she came to consciousness. When she peered across the room, Carter Bass was grinning widely, carrying some sort of tray in one of his hands as he watched her.

"Do you exist just to torture me?" Blair moaned, turning over. She closed her eyes, willing him to go away, but he was persistent, dropping beside her on the bed before rolling her around with one of his hands. Blair shot up, clutching her head. "_God_, Carter. What do you – " Blair cut off when she realized that the tray was actually a breakfast spread – egg whites beside a yogurt parfait and a small bowl of nuts. Fresh orange juice accompanied a twin set of white pills – probably Advil – and Carter offered it all to her.

"What is this?" Blair glanced at it suspiciously, allowing him room to set it down on her lap.

"Now, Waldorf," Carter smirked. "I thought you had passed Constance. Must I give you a lesson on breakfast foods? These are eggs…"

"Don't be such an ass," Blair snapped, rolling her eyes. She clutched the sheet around herself, sure that she looked absolutely terrible. Her mouth was stale and her eyes were still smeared with last night's makeup. But Carter only raised his eyebrows, nudging the tray towards her again. Blair finally relented, gingerly popping the pills into her mouth and swallowing him down. Carter proceeded to watch her scoop up the yogurt in her bowl and eat it slowly.

"Good?" Carter asked, watching her lips purse. "I made that myself. It's a skill you inhabit when you become a global vagabond – "

"You're lying," Blair interrupted. Her voice was toneless, and she rolled her eyes for the hundredth time as she ate. "These taste like the staff's eggs and, per usual, you're full of shit."

"Hm," Carter laughed, relentless. "Someone woke up in a good mood this morning." He paused before reaching out to rumple her hair. "And with the most _adorable _bedhead." Blair groaned and smacked his hand away, flicking yogurt at him in her utter disdain.

"Get out," Blair ordered, but as he smiled at her, she found herself smiling back. And they sat that way in silence as Carter stole her food, and Blair barely ate, watching as the sunlight hit the lightness of his hair.

"You know," Carter said, suddenly appearing serious. "You really put on a show last night, Blair. And then you disappeared. Why did – " Carter stopped when a knock forced them to jump apart. A stream of expletives ran through her mind when she saw Nate, as flawless as ever, standing in her doorway, a kind smile on his face. It was one thing to be in this state around a leering Carter, but she couldn't let _Nate _see her this way.

"Hey," Nate greeted, nodding at his brother too. Carter rolled his eyes at his brother's signature, unintelligent form of saying hello.

"Nate," Blair breathed, glancing at Carter, then back at his younger counterpart. "What are you doing here?"

"I was worried about you last night," Nate explained, frowning at his brother's presence. But he was easily distracted. "I wanted to know if I could take you up on that offer to hang out. We can take the rental down to the golf club."

Blair raised her eyebrows. "Golf?"

"Golf," Nate repeated with a cheeky smile. He glanced down at the tray in Blair's lap. "Hey, where did that come from?" Nate teased, sending a blush to Blair's cheeks. "_I _never get breakfast in bed."

"I – "

"I was just pondering that myself," Carter cut in, his tone brisk and smooth. His entire mood shifted as he looked at Nate, then at Blair. "The staff must be impeccable today." Carter stole another fruit from Blair's plate before standing and heading for the door. Blair let out a short breath as he left her, calling out, "Later, kids."

And then he was gone.

:::

After Blair kindly – as kindly as she could manage with an emotion-muddled brain – turned Nate down in favor of some well-deserved relaxation, she found her abandoned copy of _Vanity Fair _and made way to her favorite spot on the patio. She read as she walked, faintly hearing Serena's voice and Lily and Eleanor made a big to-do about her sun-kissed highlights. Blair frowned, focusing on the words before her as her hand slid down the wooden bannister.

_"A woman may possess the wisdom and chastity of Minerva, and we give no heed to her, if she has a plain face. What folly will not a pair of bright eyes make pardonable? What dullness may not red lips are sweet accents render pleasant? And so, with their usual sense of justice, ladies argue that because a woman is handsome, therefore she is a fool. O ladies, ladies! There are some of you who are neither handsome nor wise."_

Blair, of course, was both. Or, she liked to think she was. Yale had changed her – put a girl playing dress-up into the role of a true queen. And a part of her wondered if the Basses would still be doting on her if she was still traipsing around Serena's spotlight, pushing around yogurt as she spewed out meaningless orders to high schoolers.

But…who was she now?

Blair was so lost in her thoughts that she failed to see that her hammock was already occupied and screamed when she sank down upon a body, getting tangled in a web of limbs with – _oh God _– Dan Humphrey. Blair slapped him once, and then again until he groaned and shot up, moving a safe distance away from the fuming brunette.

"God, you're _such _a creep," Blair hissed, straightening herself out. "Don't you have a girlfriend to attend to? Some hermit little sister to take care of?" Blair slammed her hand down, shaking the material of the hammock. "Why are you always _here_?"

"You mean Jenny?" Dan asked, shaking his head. "She's gone. This was only a pit stop on her way up to my mother's. I'm afraid that I'm the only Humphrey left standing."

"Not for long," Blair murmured under her breath.

"What?"

Blair glanced at him, opening her book. "Nothing." Dan shrugged, turning for the beach, but Blair felt a sudden wave of emotion wash over her when she spoke again. "Humphrey, how did you know…" She stopped herself. "I mean, why would you think that I had feelings for any of the Basses?"

Dan looked back at her curiously, thinking for a moment. "You look at Nate like he's perfect for you. You talk to Carter like you two have been married for years." Dan cocked his head to the side. "And when you and Chuck are in the same room…it's like gravity halts and everything is on fire. You two have this pull, and...we're all just victims of it."

Blair shook her head, swallowing. "How could you possibly infer that?" Dan shrugged again, watching as Blair considered his words. Finally, she waved him away, throwing her guard back up, stiffening her posture. "Just go, Humphrey. As always, you've proved yourself to be useless."

But as plates clattered inside the house and three brothers gathered for breakfast, Blair's heart lifted, and Dan shot her one last pointed look.

A silent _I told you so._

* * *

**Author's Note: **Hey guys! I should really be studying right now, so I'm going to keep this short. But I was almost done with this chapter, so I thought I'd just finish it off so that I could focus on OTS and Wires this week. I know it's been a while so...are you still reading? Let me know what you think. Reviews are much appreciated! - N


	4. Fidelity

**Chapter 3. Fidelity**

Those sticky, humid moments of spring had finally been chased away by clear tides and yellow mornings. And once the current Hamptons inhabitants were positive that weather would not be a looming threat – _tents were outdated and rather tacky, after all_ – they began to plan Summer's Eve.

The Eve social was held within the expanse of primly cut fields, blooming summertime buds, and regal stone benches behind the very last beach of East Hampton. Every year, the Courtland Gardens marked the beginning of the season, and anyone who was _anyone _showed their face if they wanted to make any sort of mark upon the next three months. It was a party that decided fate, imprinted stamps upon unknowing lives. It was often rumored that, for the rich, the Summer's Eve was the _real _New Year's Eve.

Because those last few minutes before the party ended would be spent downing pink drinks, sobering up after drowsy, beautiful hours spent getting lost in Courtland's grand maze. You could finally become a pursuant to the girl in the pink dress, the boy who you'd known all of your life. Summer held a certain bravery that the rest of the year could not touch. Upon midnight, the party's guests would release glowing lanterns into the air, watch them burst through the darkness like wild hearts until they could not see where one began and the other ended.

How you spent your Eve was how you would spend the rest of your summer. And that was not a myth.

Which was why Blair Waldorf was taking the whole affair quite seriously. She had on a plain white dress, belted black – the most mature thing she owned – and was attempting to ignore Serena's ongoing rants as she and the blonde descended the 1770 House's grand stairwell.

"I _really _don't have time for this, S."

Serena followed just a step behind Blair, wavy blonde locks falling to her lower back as she lolled her head in a sigh. "Blair, you always do this. We made all of these great plans to _relax _this summer, and now you're getting all obsessed with – "

"The Summer's Eve social is _not _a joke. You can think what you want about it," Blair sniffed, catching her reflection in the hall mirror as they passed it by. "But I'm not just going to sit here and _hope _that this summer goes my way." Blair grinned to herself. "I'm going to ensure it."

Serena frowned. "We were supposed to go sunbathing."

"Oh right," Blair deadpanned, stopping her friend just outside of the sitting room she was headed to. "Because that's a once in a lifetime event."

"It _is_ when Carter finally decides to spare the rental and drive us up by the vineyard…"

"I really don't care about anything that has to do with Carter," Blair droned impatiently.

"Even Chuck – "

"What a coincidence," Blair cut in again, "I don't care about him either." The brunette took a steady breath, tried to collect herself. "Look, S, I'll find _some _way to get us to the vineyard sans Carter's help after the social has passed. This is really important to me. And with Nate as my date…"

Serena's eyes widened. "Nate asked you to the social? He's your…date?"

Blair shifted, crossed her arms in front of her chest. "Not yet." Her brown eyes nearly disappeared behind narrowed lids. "Why? Is there a problem with me pursuing Nate?"

"No, but – "

"Because the only girl I see within a mile's radius of Nate Bass is you," Blair stated, drawing a step closer. Serena swallowed, pursed her lips as she prepped herself for a bitch-off with Blair – one that, as always, would be one-sided. "And I know that you would never be so stupid as to go after the _one _boy I'm interested in, would you?" Blair sighed, exhausted by sounding like a broken record. "Not when it would come between us. Not when you have a boyfriend."

"The _one_ boy you're interested in?" Serena chose to echo.

Blair visibly flinched before her features could smooth over again. But she smiled anyway, lips only straying from their slant to say, "Let me know if your Humphrey needs a plus one for his facial hair."

Although she then left Serena in a quiet huff, Blair was disturbed by the blonde's words, unsettled when she finally found her Eleanor, Lily van der Woodsen, and Anne Bass seated around a tray of untouched scones and empty cups of peppermint tea. She forced herself to smile as she sat down with them. _What did Serena know, anyway? _She was just as annoying as her idiot boyfriend.

"Hi, Mother," Blair breathed, smoothing out her skirt as she sat upon one of the plush cushions. "Lily, Anne."

"It's so wonderful to have you join us," Anne announced, though she looked no more enthusiastic than her usual solemn facial expression allowed. "It's refreshing to have a young eye on the job when we're planning these things… This event is, after all, for the younger crowd. We're just here to pull the strings behind the scenes. _And_ I hear that you have quite the social repertoire." Across the sitting room table, Blair beamed, thrilled to have finally captured the adults' attention. Serena with her golden vibes, the brothers with their sibling drama, it had all distracted from what _she _could bring to the table.

"Yes, well, Blair once threw a benefit in high school that raised nearly one million dollars to a very worthy cause," Eleanor added, and Blair pressed her lips into a tight grin. In public, Eleanor often boasted about these things, but refused to spare even the slightest of compliments when she had Blair alone.

"It was just a fun little masquerade," Blair said, mustering up some humility.

"You girls looked gorgeous at the ball, Blair," Lily sighed, as if she was desperate to live through her daughter if only for a fleeting moment. "And with the Prince George ballroom as backdrop, I can only imagine…"

"The Prince George ballroom?" Anne asked, suddenly perking up. "Well, I think the boys attended that benefit under my donation. What a small world."

Blair paused, frowned as their maid handed her a cup of rose tea – her favorite. The liquid was almost scalding hot, but she could not feel it over a sudden rush of memories.

She was in high school again, wearing a beautiful gown of maroon silk and heavy ruffles. Her mask had been black, a stretch of lace covering just above her cheekbones. But the boy she'd been seeing, Theodore Rowley, had strayed before midnight, had been too captivated by Blair's blonde best friend to even bother to dance with his _actual _date. And, in a habit of her youth, she'd forced herself to feel sick, swayed on her feet, poised to fall.

But someone else caught onto her. It was a boy with a beautiful smile who had hooked onto her waist, whisked her back onto the center of the floor, spinning and dipping, clinking champagne until she could no longer see straight. He'd been the first person to ever leave her breathless. But the minute there had been a break in harmony, he'd disappeared.

"Blair?"

Blair jumped, blinked her eyes open to see Anne's cold blue ones staring back. "Oh…I'm sorry. Where were we?"

"We weren't really discussing anything of consequence," Lily announced with a little flourish. Blair had a feeling that there wasn't just Earl Grey in her cup. "In fact, we were exchanging quite a bit of gossip."

"Gossip?"

"Well…yes," Eleanor allowed, raising a brow. "Dates to this particular event are consequential, aren't they?"

"Hm," Lily mused. "I'm not sure that Serena took that into consideration when she brought this boy home for the summer."

"Lily," Eleanor sighed. "Daniel's nice enough. He's such a humble young boy, and well-mannered, I suppose – "

"Eleanor, we both know that being well-mannered and _humble _isn't going to get a man or his significant other anywhere in our world." Lily reached for her cup, wincing slightly as she tasted the drink on her tongue. "Of course, I'm not one to judge. I've had my share of wild flings in the past. But this…thing with Serena seems to be more permanent than I'd originally hoped."

In her seat, Blair soured, unsurprised at the turn in conversation.

"Serena will be fine," Anne assured the other woman. "Blair." She trained her eyes on the young brunette. "What about you? Have you found a date to the social?"

"No…" Blair trailed off, smiled. "Of course, it's been on my mind."

Eleanor and Anne shared a knowing look before Anne continued, "Nate is free. I'm sure that he'd love to escort you."

Blair smiled down at her dessert plate. "Oh?"

"Of course," Anne confirmed. "It'll all be arranged." Beside Blair, Eleanor was bubbling with so much excitement that she appeared to be having an aneurysm. And although this wasn't exactly the swoon-worthy ask that she'd been expecting from Nate himself, Blair was also a little jumpy. Why should she bother delaying her gratification, anyway? Let girls like Serena jump headfirst into their own little self-inflicted tragedies.

Blair Waldorf's rise would be set in stone.

"Who knows what Chuck will do for a date, if he brings one. At least we won't have to worry about permanence there," Anne sighed. Blair couldn't help but smirk at the thought. "And Carter…" Anne pressed her hands together, looked the happiest Blair had ever seen her. "Will be bringing Bree."

Blair coughed, pressed a hand to her chest as she cleared her throat. "Bree?"

"Oh, yes," Anne said. "She and her parents just flew up from their estate in the South. You know how they hate straying from their side of the nation." She glanced at Blair, who was listening in obvious confusion. "Bree Buckley? She's Carter's girlfriend."

:::

Blair didn't know why she was so angry. But her cheeks still boiled red when she excused herself from the three older women, when she found Carter splayed out on a lounge chair, smoking hash by the pool. In a fit of disgust, she pulled the brown, rolled paper from his lips and stomped it out, swiveling to stand in front of him.

"Well, well," Carter started, pouty red lips an offset to his more angular jaw. His grin was sheepish when he pulled his fingers through the quaffed, light brown hair atop his head. "Hello, gorgeous. To what do I owe this – " He broke off when Blair grasped his ear and tugged his head forward. "_Ouch_."

"If you think this hurts…" Blair seethed, pulling again, watching as he winced before grinning in slight amusement. _God_. Even now, he was flirting with her. "You are _such _a pig."

"You have the wrong, Bass, baby," Carter drawled, infuriatingly calm when he reached up to pull a hand through her hair. "That's Chuck. You know that I'm the charmer."

"Ugh," Blair snapped, shoving at his chest until his chair nearly toppled over. "You've been flirting with me, pushing my buttons, taking advantage of the fact that I liked it…and now it turns out that you have some small town Southern Belle for a girlfriend? Are you even ashamed at how _disgusting_ you are?"

Carter leaned back for a moment, blue eyes scanning her peaches and cream skin. He processed her little tirade for a second before another smile made an appearance. "I was taking advantage of the fact that you…" He licked his lips. "_Liked _it?"

"Oh my God," Blair huffed, throwing herself onto the opposite lounge chair.

"No, no," Carter laughed. "Go on. I'm _so _interested in what you have to say."

"Don't talk to me anymore, okay?" Blair ordered, pushing up from the seat with a little swish from the skirt of her dress. "Was that succinct enough for you?" She turned her back to him, fists banging against her sides as she went to walk back into the house.

But she froze when she heard Carter's voice again, free of jokes when he said, "If you're talking about Bree, she's not my girlfriend." Blair could hear his footsteps behind her, and she rolled her eyes, already prepared to dismiss his little spiel. "Bree and I went to this elite camp together when we were young." He sighed as if the whole thing were utterly ridiculous. "When my mom and dad found out that her family had big funds in Southern land – and I'm talking land that could cover New York City with some snuggle room – she started pushing this thing between us."

"And?" Blair asked, her voice lower this time. "Did it work?"

"I really liked Bree once," Carter admitted. "And perhaps we would _still _like each other, had our parents not shoved the Buckley-Bass union down our throats for so many years. My mother's good at that, rearranging emotions to her liking, despite the affect it has on other people."

Blair swallowed, suddenly remembering how eager Anne had been to set her and Nate up.

"So don't worry," Carter said, spinning Blair around with his hands anchored on her upper arms. "I haven't seen her since I was in high school. She's not encroaching on your…territory." His lips lifted into a half-smile.

"My _territory_?" Blair sputtered. He watched as her adorable little features went from careless to enraged in a half-second, and he nearly lifted his arms to shield himself again. But she didn't hit him, only rolled her eyes as she said, "My God, Carter. What? Did you think I would ever feel lucky to have you?" She smiled, patted the collar of his shirt before drawing away. "The _only _relief I feel is for this Bree girl. I don't wish the trauma that would result from being your girlfriend on anyone."

"You know, this sounds a lot like foreplay."

"You're delusional."

"Another dip in the pool?"

"_Carter_ – "

"Your lips look lonely, do you want to – "

"I'm leaving now," Blair finally snapped, pushing away from him in search of another wing of the house. She left him there, spoke over her shoulder as she warned, "And Carter? If you _ever _call me baby again, I will personally and violently remove that grin from your face." Blair turned away, and she could hear him laughing, the light sound rolling across the courtyard, wrapping around her like a childhood blanket. And in the end, this feeling was the one that betrayed Blair.

And she made the unfortunate mistake of smiling while he could still see.

:::

She needed a bike ride.

Serena had often made fun of this strange hobby of Blair's, one that she had picked up during her first year at Yale. But Blair failed to see what was so amusing about it. She preferred _attractive _sports, ones that were spirited and graceful and would _not _make her sweat. Running was simply out of the question.

"But, B," Serena had murmured to Blair's dainty new cycle, "that thing isn't durable. If you hit a stone, it's going to send you hurtling, and you don't even wear helmets – "

"Um, hat hair," Blair had pointed out, the "duh" obvious in her tone.

"You're always trying to prove something, Blair…"

Blair had rolled her eyes at the blonde's assumption. "I'm not trying to prove _anything_, Serena. So I wanted to take up a fashionable sport…not all of us can blink and lose ten pounds." That had sufficiently shut her up.

And now there Blair was, pushing her bicycle up the stone path beside the house, gingerly steering it around stone flower pots and loose gravel. She was wearing a particularly long skirt for the occasion, a flouncy blouse that revealed the arcs of her shoulders. Her headband was pink to match her Tory Burch flats. Blair was especially coordinated that day, she realized with a quake of disappointment. And there was nobody around to admire the ensemble. Nobody except –

Blair peered up the path, where the main road began. Chuck Bass was standing there, deep violet pants on under his noir blazer. His hair was just a bit unruly today, not so formally slicked-back, and one or two dark locks strayed from the flawless 'do. As always, a cigarette was held between his lips. As always, it remained unlit.

Blair bit down on her lip, rolled her bike up the path and tapped him on the shoulder. "Chuck."

He glanced up, grinned back at her. "Waldorf." He leaned forward, grasped her waist so suddenly that she could not resist when his lips brushed her across one of her rosy cheeks. "Nice to see that you've sobered up. I thought I'd have a raging alcoholic on my hands this summer."

Blair rolled her eyes, slipped away from his touch. "No, Chuck. That would be you."

"Are you this way with my brothers?" Chuck flicked the cigarette, tucked it back into his jacket pocket. "Or do you save the sweet words for me?"

"Don't even speak to me about your brother," Blair retorted, pressing her elbow into one handle of the parked bike. "I detest him."

Chuck smirked, inexplicably delighted by this little piece of information, inexplicably pleased that they were spending their time as confidants now. "I'm assuming that you're referring to the one who chooses to leave his shirt unbuttoned with all the taste of a male entertainer – " Chuck winced at the thought of Carter's attempt at being seductive. " – and not the one with man-bangs."

"You assumed correctly," Blair huffed.

"Well, feel free to insult Carter for as long as you please," Chuck drawled. "There's nothing I would enjoy more." He cocked his head to one side, obviously getting an idea. "In fact, I'll join you."

Chuck seemed serious, and Blair felt…excited. His face looked so handsome under the summer light, and he was just the right height for her, could easily slip his arm around her shoulder without the awkward body bumping that so often occurred with other boys. To Blair, those were the important things.

"I suppose that would be…nice," Blair conceded, smiling at the ground. Chuck liked the smile she offered him, it was exclusive – he watched her often enough to notice that. It was wide but pinched, like she was holding back a full grin that she didn't want him to see. She'd glance down, drag her eyes up in the coyest manner possible, pupils dilating within pools of brown. A little dimple indented itself into the curve of her cheek, and he suddenly did not know if he wanted to spend his time wooing her with freshly cut peonies and quiet, romantic evenings or if he wanted to push her up against the wall and have his way with her until she could no longer remember the English language.

Chuck smiled, raked his eyes over her petite figure. _Perhaps he could manage both._

"Chuck…?" Blair murmured. "Aren't you going to get a bicycle?" She seemed a little impatient now. "Or are you just toying with me like you so often love to do?"

Chuck frowned. "Why would I need a bike?"

Blair glanced down at her own cycle, as if it were obvious.

"I'd prefer to walk," Chuck said smoothly, shifting to continue down the path. When he realized that Blair had not joined him, he sighed, turned to look at her disgruntled expression.

"Are you _serious_?" One of Blair's brown ringlets slipped across her shoulder. "I'm not going to cycle while you walk beside me. That would be too…weird." Chuck looked uncomfortable, but he said nothing, just cracked his knuckles and stared back at her. Blair sighed once more. "Come on, Bass. You're acting like you don't know to ride a – "

His visible flinch silenced the sarcasm in her tone.

Blair paused, shook her head incredulously. "You don't know how to ride a bicycle?"

"Don't bother with the jokes," Chuck suddenly said. His features clouded over, and he grew defensive, drew back into himself. "I'm aware of how ridiculous it is. I just wasn't exactly up for lessons when Bart and Anne were negotiating adoption papers – when I was preparing for my mother's funeral."

Blair blinked, took a half-step closer. "I would never laugh at you, Chuck." They were both silent for a moment as Chuck felt her promise sink in. He nodded slightly, relaxed his stance, and watched as the brunette dropped the handle of her bicycle. It unceremoniously _clunk_ed against the gravel. "You know, I've grown so bored with cycling."

Chuck cracked a smile. "Blair – "

"And on these _paths,_" Blair said, exasperated. "You would think that deigning the estate with our presence would call for some suitable renovations." She peeked at him over her shoulder. "Are you coming, Bass? I'm suddenly in the mood for a walk."

"Waldorf," Chuck murmured, pulling her arm around the crook of his elbow. "You know, you don't have to do this." But even as he spoke the words, he led her on, and they were thrust into an Eden of lush grass, weeping willows, and bushels of lavender splayed out across the distance. "You don't owe me anything."

They both clearly knew what he was referring to. Blair could still remember him undressing her, could still feel his hands through the cover of silk when he tucked her into bed. And although Chuck Bass had never been reputable for his nurturing nature, Blair had never felt more cared for in her entire life.

"I don't owe anybody anything," Blair clarified. _I just like the way my arm fits around yours_.

"Hm," Chuck mused as they weaved through a row of old oaks. "Which is why you're spending so much time planning this event? The Summer's – "

"Eve," Blair finished rather proudly. "Will you be going?"

"And miss out on intolerably insistent cougars and light cocktails?" Chuck's lip curled in disgust. "I'm sure that my brother would enjoy that much more than I would."

Blair frowned. "Which brother?"

Chuck considered this. "Not sure, actually."

"Hmph," Blair murmured, not enjoying the image of some spray tanned, MILF pawing all over Nate. Or Carter, for that matter. And…she wasn't so thrilled that such activity didn't seem to stray from the norm for Chuck. She exhaled, shook the thought from her head. "You should go. It's practically mandatory."

"Because I look like a man who abides by the rules?"

The deep undertones in his voice made Blair blush, and she quickly averted her attention to a water fountain across the way. "It won't kill you. You might _actually _have fun."

Chuck's lips curled, and he turned to her, slid her arm up higher around his. "Only if you tell me how much you _want_ me – " His pause was purposeful, effective. " – to go."

Blair smirked. "Well then, I guess you won't be attending."

"And if I alter my conditions?"

Blair quirked a brow. "Try me."

"Go with me," Chuck stated as if it were simplest command in the world. "To Summer's Eve. Allow me to...escort you." Blair paused, her arm slipping from his grasp. It was silent in the fields, just a few birds chirping, the slow trickle of pooling water sounding from far away. She narrowed her eyes, lips dropping open just slightly.

"Why…?"

"Because," Chuck said, "I enjoy you."

"You make it sound like I'm some sort of dessert," Blair retorted.

Chuck's eyes trailed down to her bare shoulders, the dip of her neckline. "Well…"

"God," Blair groaned. "Are you sure that you and Carter aren't brothers by _blood_? Or do you just read from the same smarmy script?"

"Perhaps he's copied a few tricks from my _oral _expertise," Chuck agreed in a pointed tone, sending a tremble down Blair's spine. "But you never quite have this reaction when he speaks, do you?" His knuckles barely brushed over her collarbone when he raised his hand. And surely enough, Blair's chest was borderline scarlet, heaving and falling in an unsteady succession. His thumb pressed into the line of her jaw once before smoothing across her cheek. "Come on, Waldorf. Don't make me _beg_."

Her breath wavered, spilled over her full bottom lip to wisp across his fingertips. Had he been any other sleazy pursuant, the words would have sounded absolutely pathetic. But this careless, apathetic look on Chuck's face looked practiced, like he was forcing her to believe that he didn't care if she accepted or rejected him. But his eyes betrayed what his stance didn't. They were honest, darkness seeping into the lightest ambers there.

Despite herself, Blair smiled - as if they were sharing a secret - and she forgot about her mother's excitement, his step-mother's prying opinions. And she found herself nodding back. "Fine. But I expect you to don a lavender bow-tie, Bass. You'll need to match my dress."

He smirked, took her arm again as they headed back to the house. "That can most definitely be arranged."

:::

Nate Bass was very much aware that, when it came to his mother, he was obviously the favorite son.

But it wasn't like he would _ever_ wish that "honor" upon anyone. Carter and Chuck were angsty, brooding – and lucky. They said whatever they pleased and _did _whatever occurred to them in the moment. Carter had taken off to unravel every part of the world he stepped foot on, sending the occasional text with pictures of Swiss waitresses and what he captioned "the best joints in Central Asia."

And then there was Chuck, who had ironically suited up to be the perfect Bass in appearance before proceeding to stomp all over any dignity that came with the family name. Though his days of teenaged boozing and late nights spent horribly influencing a pre-teen version of Nate were long over, he had just taken up a classier form of debauchery in his 20's. He frequented burlesque clubs now, bought grand properties to turn them into smoking parlors and hideaways. He'd never even had a girlfriend. He'd never been expected to.

No, things like that were left to Nate, who was sacrificed to their grandfather _every _time the boys were expected to visit the Vanderbilt manor. Nate was to excel, was to have the extravagant wedding and four golden-haired children that followed.

All while Chuck and Carter amused themselves by playing at who could fuck up better.

This was exactly why Nate knew to run when his mother spotted him playing Call of Duty in Bart's lounge. Though the lacrosse captain certainly had speed and strength over the middle-aged woman, Anne had the startlingly quiet agility of a botoxed ninja when she snuck up behind him in the dim room.

"Nate, honey," Anne began, pressing a light hand to her youngest son's shoulder. Nate could practically feel the chill of her skin through his polo. "I want to talk to you about something important."

Nate cleared his throat, peeked up at her through the sweep of light hair across his forehead. "Sure, Mom." He powered off the game, got up to let her sit. He waited until she crossed her legs and gingerly folded her hands atop her lap, before he asked, "Is something wrong?"

"Of course not." Anne pursed her lips. "Have you given any consideration to the Summer's Eve social?"

Nate cocked his head to the side with a small frown. "I mean, yeah. You know that I'm going." His smile was sloppy but warm. "Why? What's up?"

"Have you given any consideration," Anne clarified, "to your _date _for the Summer's Eve social?"

"Oh," Nate blinked. "No. Not really."

"You should ask Blair Waldorf," Anne finally said, refusing to dally about it any longer. "It makes the most sense. You're the same age, she's a lovely young girl. You like Blair, don't you? She goes to Yale – you two _must _have some of the same interests."

Nate coughed, thrown off by the sudden shift in conversation. It wasn't as if he didn't like Blair. He did, in fact, like Blair a lot. She was pretty, and headstrong, and she flirted with him so warmly that he could easily imagine himself slipping into the role of her boyfriend if it ever were to happen. But she wasn't the only girl in the 1770 House who interested him.

_That_ hadn't escaped Nate's notice.

"Uh, sure," Nate shrugged. "I didn't know that this was a date thing, but – " He attempted to charm his mother with a cheeky grin. " – I'll definitely think about it."

"Nate," Anne cut in, suddenly exasperated. "I strongly suggest that you ask Blair to Summer's Eve." Nate parted his lips to argue, but Anne continued on in a singular, dry tone, "Everything happens for a reason. We're all here together, this summer, for a reason. You're much too young, and your father doesn't like to discuss these things with you, but it's imperative that we build the foundation of these relationships _now_ – this summer."

"What…" Nate trailed off, eyes squinting.

"Your father's power, the Vanderbilts' legacy, Eleanor Waldorf's creativity," Anne listed. "And now that Carter has gotten back in touch with Bree – "

"_You _got back in touch with Bree, Mom."

"The Buckleys own the South," Anne continued. "This is…an _empire _that your father is expanding. And we each play a key role in that."

Nate's eyebrows raised. "What about Chuck?"

Anne seemed unaffected by his question. "Yes, well, Chuck certainly tosses in his own contributions." She leaned forward, knuckles burning white from her clenched fists. "But the most important thing is that the Waldorfs are pleased this summer. Especially Blair, and _especially _with you."

"Mom – "

"I know that you're the one I can count on to handle this," Anne insisted. "I'm not wrong, am I?"

Nate swallowed down the lump in his throat, already feeling the relaxed, carefree summer in the Hamptons he had envisioned slipping through his fingertips.

But he found himself nodding along anyway, securing his fate, tied up in puppet strings pulled by a business that was bound to break hearts.

:::

Bree Buckley arrived the following Thursday - red, shiny curls practically signaling her presence from across East Hampton. Or perhaps it was Blair's sixth sense for trespassers within her temporary summer Queendom. Regardless, she awoke that morning with a headache, and her hair fell flat despite the inordinate number of times she had wrapped each lock around the heated barrel in her hand. Finally, she gave up with a drawn-out sigh, threw the hand-held machine against her vanity counter and groaned.

"You know, your hair looks nice the way it is," a voice offered from behind her. Blair's fingers dropped from massaging her temples, and she swiveled in her chair to find Nate at her door, light blue eyes the perfect offset to his white dress shirt. Her heart weakened at the sight.

"Nate…" Blair smiled, sat up straighter in her little floral shift dress. "Shouldn't you be downstairs, greeting Carter's…" She trailed off; the thought of saying _girlfriend _left a bad taste in her mouth.

"Right, yeah," Nate said, leaning against the doorframe. "I was just on my way there."

"But…your room is on the other side of the house," Blair stated, ever suspicious and especially observant.

"No, I know," Nate laughed. "I was just…"

"Just?"

"Borrowing something from Chuck."

"Oh," Blair said, sounding slightly dejected. "Well, knowing Chuck, I'm not sure if whatever he has to offer will further your life in any way." She smiled again before flicking her hair over her shoulder, turning back towards her vanity mirror.

And then she heard him say, "But I also wanted to see you."

Blair held in a hiccup of excitement, glanced down at her lap. "You…did?"

"Yeah, totally," Nate said, shifting his weight to his other foot. Okay, so he wasn't the world's most eloquent speaker, Blair concluded. But he looked so handsome with that haircut, and his grin was flawless. And for someone who prided herself on keeping both feet planted firmly on the ground, this was the third time she'd found herself hooked by a charming smile that week.

Not that _she_ would ever admit that.

Blair was just about to prompt Nate to explain when she heard an all-too familiar chuckle, saw someone come up behind Nate in the hall.

"You know, little brother," Chuck drawled, glancing at Blair over Nate's shoulder. "This is quite the fire hazard you're creating for me right now."

Nate frowned, glanced back at Chuck. "Why would you run _in _to Blair's room during a fire?"

The younger boy waited for an answer, but Chuck only smirked, nodded at Blair before continuing down the hallway. Blair rolled her eyes, and Nate shrugged back, stepped into her room and sat at the foot of her bed. After a slight pause, Nate said, "So, I wanted to know what you were doing for Summer's Eve." He cleared his throat, raked his fingers through the few brown locks in his eyes. "I wanted to know if you had a…date."

So lost in her excitement, Blair's grin widened. That was the problem with rising after being content in the shadows for so long. Then, you didn't know when to stop shining. Blair couldn't stop herself when she coyly leaned forward and said, "Why? What did you have in mind?"

"We should go together," Nate suggested. "If that's something you would want to do." He paused. "It doesn't have to be a big deal…We don't have to announce anything, but…" He grinned. "I thought you'd like an escort."

_No, definitely not the smoothest talker._

But Blair didn't care. So thrilled to have claimed victory over her silent argument with Serena, her head bobbed up and down, her smile was shameless. She blanked on the past forty-eight hours, was so blinded by being wanted that she forgot the one – or two – brooding boys who _genuinely _felt that way downstairs.

"I'd love to, Nate."

:::

But Blair's excitement was quick to die off when they descended onto the main floor. Outside of the dining room, Bart and – Blair peered closer, narrowed her eyes at the pair before her – _Lily _were engaged in deep conversation, unintelligible whispers halting before she and Nate could eavesdrop.

"Dad…" Nate trailed off. "Everything good?"

Bart glanced up, quickly straightened. His thin lips dropped to the straight line he seemed to have mastered. Lily also pulled away, patted the blonde knot at the nape of her neck and cleared her throat. But it was Bart who said, "Everything's fine, Nate." His gaze cut towards the brunette beside his son. "It's good to see you, Blair." He glanced back at Lily, appeared to seem absolutely unaffected when he said, "You two should join the kids inside. I have a business call to attend to." And with that, he walked off, leaving Lily to smile at the two before heading in the other direction.

Blair now understood where Chuck had picked up that charade of his.

"Come on," Nate shrugged, not one to suspect a thing. "Let's go." Blair relaxed, shot him a half-hearted smile before following him into the dining room.

But an hour later, Blair was doing nothing to hide her disgust. They were seated around the dining table, Blair sandwiched between Nate and Serena, sitting right across from Chuck – and she _swore _that it was his leg she felt brush hers under the table.

Humphrey was seated on Serena's other side, along with Carter and –

"Bree," Serena chimed into the dull conversation. "That's really amazing. I've been dying to get more involved in some charities,too."

"_Please_," Blair snickered. "Letting your pathetic suitors take down your number does _not _count as charitable." Across the table, Chuck snickered. But Bree still smiled politely, nibbled on her food while Carter retold yet _another _memory from their camp days. And Blair – she wanted to gag.

She despised Bree Buckley. Her natural, strawberry curls, that wide-eyed Bambi expression she wore _so _well. Blair hated that Bree was yet another girl under their roof, even if it was temporary. It was hard enough to compete with Serena, who Blair could always manipulate and stray away. But this Bree knew all of the right things to say – was charming, but not a prude. She played innocent, but was obviously not inexperienced.

And above all else, Blair couldn't stand that the girl's name started with the letter _B_.

"It was just amazing. Carter and I have always bonded over our love of travelling," Bree grinned. "But his ventures are more for sport than mine are." Bree went on to talk all about her lovely little missions in South Africa, her tutoring sessions in Central America. Blair groaned, her head dangerously close to banging against the table. What _was _she? Philanthropic Barbie?

"And then we visited these schools in the south – "

"Wow," Blair suddenly cut in. "I hadn't realized that we'd be entertaining Mother Theresa for brunch."

Bree's brow crinkled, a kind smile still on her lips. "I'm sorry?"

"No, I'm sorry," Blair echoed, "that you actually think we're interested in hearing all about your various bonding sessions with the lower class." Blair rolled her eyes. "It must be really sweet to grace them with your presence before returning to Daddy's McMansion down in Hicksville."

"_Blair_ – " Serena hissed.

"Alright," Carter said, his voice surprisingly solemn. "Settle down." But when Bree wasn't looking, when the rest of the table fell under an uncomfortable silence, Carter raised his eyebrows and mouthed, _Jealous?_

Blair shoved away from the table, waved Nate away as she spun on her heel. "I need air," she announced. _Not that anyone cared._

:::

A day later, Blair was still skillfully avoiding the rest of the house, even Chuck, who was always finding a way to show up at her doorway with that smug grin of his. But now, it was six hours before Summer's Eve would commence. And, of course, Blair was already primping. She forced herself to focus as she rung out her wet hair, hastily applied mascara to her lashes with the diligence of a fine painter. It had been easy to forget that she'd agreed to two dates that night – to ignore the fact that she'd visibly shown Carter how jealous she was of Bree yesterday.

The thought of it all made her nauseous, unsteady on her feet.

And _speaking _of things that made her sick, Blair nearly fell from her seat when she caught sight of the mop of hair, the dopy features that were poking in around her doorway. Blair's breath caught in her throat as Dan knocked on her wall, offered her a sheepish grin before inviting himself in.

"_God,_ Humphrey."

"Look," Dan said, throwing his hands up. "I know that I'm not really a person you like to bond with…"

"I don't really consider you a person," Blair droned. "You're more of…an inconvenient presence."

"Um…right," Dan murmured. He rolled his eyes up to stare at her ceiling. "I'm sorry to interrupt you while you're…quaffing. But, um…" Dan trailed off again, and Blair delivered an impatient sigh. "Look, I have an honest question."

"And I have an honest answer," Blair retorted. "Get _out_."

Dan raised a finger, ready to make his case, but they were both interrupted by the sound of conversation from across the hall. There was Carter's amused tone, followed directly by Bree's girlish laughter. They heard footsteps, carrying their words farther and farther away. When Dan turned back to look at Blair, he did not miss the scowl on her face. He dared to inch forward and whispered, "Hey, what do you think about that, anyway? I didn't see her coming."

"Oh my God," Blair groaned. "Are you really trying to have a conversation with me right now? There are currently nine other people inhabiting the 1770 House, and you can't find someone who actually _wants _to talk to you?"

"You know," Dan said, "the meaner you are, the easier it is to see it coming."

Blair shot him a pinched smile. "Wow. The more you know…" She went back to the things on her vanity, anxious for him to go. But as he went to retreat, she heard a rattling noise surface from the pocket of his slacks. She paused, glanced back. "Humphrey…" Blair narrowed her eyes. "What are those?"

"Keys," Dan stated dumbly.

Blair sighed. "To _what_?"

"The other rental. It's a Camaro."

Blair's mind raced, her form visibly lifting. There was no consequence in delaying her avoidance a bit longer, was there? She stood up, offered the gentlest grin she could manage when she faced the scruffy boy before her. "Well, Dan, you've proven yourself useful after all. I need you to drive me to Summer's Eve."

"But…I'm Serena's date."

"S and I are friends," Blair said. "We borrow things from each other. I'll return you to her once we arrive, without delay. _Trust_ me."

"So, you're basically using me as your chauffeur," Dan stated, not liking the direction this was headed in.

"Humphrey, in the two weeks since we've been here, you haven't been able to stop bugging me with your incessant prattling." Blair threw her hands up, exasperated. "And now that I actually want your help, you're not going to do it?"

"Okay," Dan groaned. "Okay, fine… I'll drive you, on one condition." Dan paused, and Blair waved her hand in a little flourish, prompting him to continue. He grinned, lifted his keys in the air, just out of her grasp. "You finally have to tell me what's going on with you and the Bass brothers."

Blair narrowed her eyes, then rolled them. She reached up to snatch the keys away, then shoved him out of her room. "Ugh. _Fine_, Humphrey," Blair huffed. "If you want to be such a girl about it."

:::

Summer's Eve was paradise.

Blair had never seen a place that glowed so brightly in the night. Grassy plains were especially lush under the hazy cast of a June evening. The decorations all appeared to defy the laws of reality: bulbs that hovered in the air above their heads, rose bushes with illuminated petals, so red they appeared to have caught fire. Even the people, the usually obnoxious crowd that often circled these affairs were floating lightly across the recreated Eden.

Blair gasped now, stopping short in her strapless, lavender gown, taking in the sight of what lay beyond the gardens: a primly cut, intricately woven maze that took up the rest of the grounds. Couples were already beginning to trickle into the secret walls, giggling and murmuring to each other under the cover of nightfall and mischief.

"Jesus," Dan murmured. "This is…" He trailed off, unable to fathom a word that could describe this extravagance. Beside him, Blair rolled her eyes. Somehow, they had managed to arrive an hour before midnight, despite the three wrong turns that he took and Blair's never-ending tirade against his poor driving skills. Quite honestly, he was surprised that he'd made it to the social alive.

"Find your girlfriend," Blair ordered. "We're done here."

"Yeah, you're welcome, Blair," Dan murmured before heading off. And Blair was left to breathe in the night air, nature's perfume of fresh flowers, wet grass, and fruity liquors. She bit down on her lip, twirled one dark chestnut curl around her pinky finger and grabbed a glass of rose champagne from a passing waiter.

And then she felt it.

"You know," came his deep rasp, and she felt a finger pull up her bare back, right between her shoulder blades. Blair closed her eyes as Chuck came closer, dipped his lips beside her ear. "If you wanted to play cat and mouse, I would have been a more than willing participant." Blair spun around, eyes set on the man in front of her, and she gasped. She couldn't help it. His grey suit fit him flawlessly, the lavender bowtie matching the purple shade of her dress to the string. His grin was devastating when he took in the sight of her dress. "You never fail to stun me, Waldorf." He reached out to touch the fabric by her hip. "You look ravishing."

Chuck leaned in then, angled them so that they were just out of the crowd's sight. Blair shook, listened to the hum of quartets play – real or imagined, she didn't know. His face was so close, his nose bumping the bridge of hers, his lips a mere breath away. He was intoxicating, blinding, electrifying. He pushed her to unconsciousness, touched his lips to hers then drew back so quickly that she was left gasping for breath, clinging onto her sanity.

"And you – " Blair let out an appreciative breath, " – look like you're up to something."

"Just one thing," Chuck admitted. His hand surfaced from behind his back, proffering a single stem of lavender, bound beautifully by white ribbons and an array of smaller buds. Though it was simple, it was stunning, and it struck Blair breathless. "You seemed so keen on your lavender," Chuck offered as an explanation.

"Chuck, it's so – "

"Blair! Hey!" She felt the dread hit her before she even saw Nate, before she dropped her hand away from the flowers held before her. In one instant, the boy appeared beside Chuck and Blair, dipped his head to kiss her cheek, but accidentally found her lips when Blair turned in surprise.

But instead of pulling away, Nate was suddenly eager, hooking a hand around her waist as his lips descended upon hers once again, a chaste kiss that she could not possibly enjoy while Chuck Bass was just helplessly watching on. It seemed like forever before Nate pulled away, breathless and a little dazed. "That was some greeting." He wrapped his arm around her shoulders. "You know, I'm really glad I asked you to be my date." He glanced at his brother, slapping him affectionately on his shoulder. "Hey, man."

Chuck did not waver. He never did.

_Blair had once learned to know pain even when she could not see it._

"Hey," Chuck said evenly, lowering his hand as Blair stared back at him, her lips parted, her shoulders tense.

"Who are those for?" Nate asked, glancing down at the lavender bouquet.

Chuck kept his eyes on Blair when he answered, "Who knows? Some poor guy had the misfortune of being rejected by his date. I thought that these could be put to better use, but…" Chuck narrowed his eyes, unceremoniously let the flowers fall to the ground. "I suppose not."

Blair's throat was suddenly so dry that she could barely speak. "I don't – "

"Enjoy your date," Chuck said, crushing a row of lavender under the heel of his shoe. A silent sob bubbled in Blair's throat, but she held it down, took Nate's arm, allowed him to lead her away from her other suitor. And in the midst of it all, she wondered how something so horrible could have an essence so sweet.

:::

"Are you okay?"

"Are you _deaf_?" Blair snapped back at her best friend as she and Serena made their way around the pastry table stocked full of fine desserts: éclairs, fruit ensembles pasted onto sweet buns, macaroons, the list went on. But Blair had lost her appetite the moment she'd caught that look in Chuck's eyes, like she'd never see the man she'd once taken a walk with again. Blair shook her head, steadied her breath. "I told you that I was fine, S."

Serena nudged Blair's arm, already used to her friend's outbursts. "Is it the Bree thing?"

"Bree Buckley can go to Hell," Blair grumbled, shoving away from an assortment of bon bons. "But the irony of it is that she _won't_."

"Oh, B…" Serena sighed. "When are you going to start learning how to relax?"

"When things start going my way," Blair replied, pressing her palm to her forehead.

"Things will start going your way when you _let _them," Serena advised. As they spoke, Blair caught sight of a dark figure heading by the mazes. Chuck disappeared just as quickly as she had spotted him, and Blair's heart jumped to her throat.

"I'll be right back," Blair murmured, eyes trained on the path he'd just ducked into. She wound her way through the chatting crowd, picked up the train of her dress and followed the steady pattern of yellow lights hung around the garden's maze. She sucked in a deep breath, dodging a kissing couple as they tipsily stumbled past her. And just as she turned the first grassy corner, hand passing over a wall of vines, she felt a strong hand encircle her arm and pull her in, cloaking her in darkness.

"It's just me," Carter whispered, his blue eyes appearing under one of the small bulbs. He grinned, slid his hand across her arm before releasing her. "I haven't gotten you alone since you wasted that perfectly good joint by the pool the other day."

"You mean the day I found out that you have a _girlfriend_?" Blair hissed. "Where is she, anyway? Did God call upon her himself this time?"

"Your jealous streak is adorable," Carter commented with a sly smile. "But I already told you that Bree isn't my girlfriend. Weren't you listening to me?"

"I try my best not to," Blair huffed.

"Blair – "

"Carter," Blair sighed. "Really, what do you want? Because I don't have time to – "

Her words were lost when his full lips slanted over hers, capturing her bottom lip in a slow caress, his hands coming to anchor at her thin waist. A sigh surfaced from his throat, and she inevitably caught it on her tongue. Blair gasped, realized that her lips were moving against his in the same instant. But before she could even think to shove him away, he simply released her, wearing an incredibly smug expression on his face.

"I'm _not _with Bree."

"Thank you," Blair whispered harshly, slapping him hard across the chest, "for clarifying that." She pushed away from him, backed herself against the grass behind her, raising two fingertips to her bottom lip. Carter was still smiling, still lax in his stance, like this was all a big game to him. Blair closed her eyes. "I'm not doing this with you, Carter."

"Wait. I didn't mean to – "

"Yes," Blair said. "You _did_."

"Okay," Carter shrugged, shameless. "Maybe I did. But I wanted you to know – "

"Carter," Blair breathed, raising a hand in the air, palm facing his chest. She couldn't layer this on to the madness, could she? She couldn't _possibly _feel anything for Carter. Just because she found his jokes slightly amusing – because he had all the grace and physique of the classic Hollywood actors she so lusted after...

_No, she couldn't._

"Carter," she repeated, squaring her jaw. "Don't kiss me again." And with that, she left him alone –

- with the unfortunately distinct feeling that they both wanted exact the opposite.

:::

_Eleven, ten, nine…_

When Blair finally found her way back through the maze, she was shaken, skin trembling despite the night's warmth. People were gathered around the clearest plain in the garden, the patch of grass out of the party's way. Blair hugged herself, eyes scanning the crowd and their multitude of summer gowns, of white blazers that were much too common to be stylish.

_Eight, seven…_

She felt a shoulder brush against hers, saw Carter amble over and join the group while sparing her one quick, fleeting glance. This time, it was neither smarmy nor luring. It was absolutely expressionless.

Until he found the sparkling redhead holding a lantern at the crowd's center.

_Six, five…_

And when Blair's eyes searched further, she finally found her own date. But he was not alone. She was sure that Serena was playing dumb as the blonde struggled to light up her lantern, giggling as Nate leaned in to help her, a broad smile on his face. Blair counted ninety-three seconds, but he did not once look around to see where she had gone.

_Four, three..._

As the crowd grew more excited, as their cries grew louder, Blair felt anxious. She felt someone come up beside her, jumped when she thought it might be Chuck, but –

"Here," Dan said, handing Blair a lit lantern. "Take mine." His eyes looked sad as they followed her gaze to the golden pair, Nate and Serena, already shining brighter than the glow of all the rest.

"Honest question?" Dan asked, repeating his words from earlier as Blair took the lantern from his hands.

She shrugged one shoulder, wondered how her perfect night had ended up this way, her only companion Dan Humphrey. "Fine, whatever."

"I don't belong here, do I?"

Blair stared straight forward. "Would you like me to lie to you, Humphrey?" She waited until he reluctantly shook his head to continue, "Then no. You don't."

And she did not tell him that he wasn't the only one.

_Two…_

Because by the end of the night, Blair had somehow managed to kiss each one of the three brothers she'd always been determined to detest.

And she had a horrible feeling that this was _exactly _how she'd be spending the rest of her summer.

_One._

* * *

**A/N:** Ah, poor B. Although, I definitely wouldn't mind getting kissed by all three Bass brothers. Any predictions on her next move? Let me know if you guys are still reading - I'm so excited to hear your thoughts. Disclaimer: I have never been to the Hamptons. Summer's Eve is a figment of my glamorized imagination. xo, N


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Gossip Girl, Angst, Romance